The Fish I caught a tremendous fish and held him beside the boat half out of water, with my hook fast in a corner of his mouth. He didn’t open his eyes and he didn’t, and he didn’t swim away.

The tadpoles in the barrow were all gathered around the body below the ripples and I stood beside you, ultimately, good.

I am looking for a thought and I am fishing for the fish that is not a thought, but poetry there in the water, swimming through its transparent glow.

The scales were like shards of broken glass in the sun, the way the light cut through him, and I could see the world’s reflection there, under the waves.

This would make a good way to spend the day, caught between the sea and all of this blue sky.

And it is certainly less of the mind without any thought of killing or dying, but of a catch, a word, a fish, and beauty to go around.

• Marianne Moore