





































22 

Chris O'Brien 

Black Water 

My father augers swirling metal shark teeth 
into the frozen lake. 
A dune of powder rises and dissolves as 
black water erupts from the puncture. 

He settles, an inflated mound on his plywood box, 
and drops his line in the hole. 
Time to stop talking 
though he said he had nothing but time. My mother 
cut out the picture from the newspaper 
of men with lunch boxes like black barns, 
double gates s~winging closed behind them, but she didn't tape it 
to the refrigerator. 

Another distant mound flings silver on the ice 
and I follow my stiff red boots 
to undersize bluegill and perch 
littering the white glare like sunset-bellied beer cans, 
some crystallized fossils embedded in the crust, 
others reflecting clouds in 
their newly air-drowned stare. 

Mound says it cleans out the lake, 
too many little ones, not enough to go around. 
I see neighbor kids 
strewn in the back of their driveway, 
pink and red snowsuit shrouds. 

I perforate the ice arms burning under wind-bit cheeks 
and drop a fish into each hole like Easler eggs in cups of color. 
Some of them swim away. 

Stac1 
,; 

An E 

In the kitchen, an egg-timer goe: 
Lo be Lo the brink of starvation, whil1 
my feet, reminding me of our walks 
find browning chicken - baking at a 
thing Lo rotate the bird, but when I < 
spoon labeled Stephen in faded red 
outlines of red and blue balloons. I 
the something to stab the bird with, 
emptiness is only temporary. 

"Guess who's a big boy and no l• 
son Stephen, the pride and joy ofD. 
phen graduated from the highchair 
extra special in his new chair. Dave 
izcd place setting for months now w 
ing we found a set at the local Child 
in to get potty training videos. 

Stephen jumped up and down i; 
Time eat?", as he paraded around ar 
and spoon together while I began Lo 

"Would you like to help Momm3 
It was too late. Stephen was alr< 

Dave and show off his new utensils. 
in the living area of the small efficie; 
to Stephen's new toddler bed. 

The pot on the stove is boiling c 
chicken, causing me to quickly gathc 
Checking the contents of the pan we 
for the first time since I've started c< 
the majority of them are burned dry 
al them with a wooden spoon, but tl 
nent fixture on the pan. 

It was a Christmas Eve. Dave gr 
always a houseful. He really made s 
at all times - especially the Holiday , 
over this year for Christmas Eve, evt 
always gone to my parent's house. I 
Christmas Day, the new plan was to 
we'd have to take Stephen to my sid 


