Bourbon Steelhead Poem by nathan martin

tempered steelheads migrating through the
shallows, thier metallic scales lubricated
with penzoil two stroke motor oil.

moving over sand and rocks
some gray, some brown,
some smooth, some jagged and torn.

with alloys glissening in the summer heat
they brush up against the rivers stones to break
off the fishermens disappointment.

all those scarred gums whose fishhooked
lines caused thier lead bellies to rust.

in the muddy waters they stir,
drink to much whiskey and sink to the
river bars sandy bottom.

thier rigid frames drifting through the sediment,
with heads lowered swaying
slowly like submariner zeppelins, trying to
navigate against the turbulent waters.

now these mechanical nomadic sailors keep for
themselves a tin compass in the sky filled with
memories of home.

but still they are mellow preachers
rolling and tumbling in thier hardened
elements trying to find thier way.