by Darren C. Demaree

 

Toward dusk, together,
pulling apart the trout
we caught

at her father’s private club
only a hundred yards
from the building women are not

allowed to enter
except for Sundays, when
I suppose their gender

can be blanketed by an easy god
that can keep all of the lazy beliefs
of rich men safe, Emily

& I tasted the fish slowly, we
ignored the crackers, we left
the iced tea in the fridge,

we thought about how much
fun our children had fishing there
& before I could say all nine

problems I had with the club,
Emily spit out a bone in the sink
& uttered a rare fuck

& I, the truly profane one,
waited to see just what she meant
by that, because I use fuck

a dozen fantastic ways, but Emily
she offered no explanation
other than to dump the rest

of the fish in the trash
& leave the room a sleeve
of cheap crackers.

 

 

 

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Darren C. Demaree is the author of twenty-two poetry collections, most recently “blue and blue and blue”, (Fernwood Press, July 2024). He is the recipient of a Greater Columbus Arts Council Grant, an Ohio Arts Council Individual Excellence Award, the Louise Bogan Award from Trio House Press, and the Nancy Dew Taylor Award from Emrys Journal. He is the Editor-in-Chief of the Best of the Net Anthology and the Managing Editor of Ovenbird Poetry. He is currently working in the Columbus Metropolitan Library system.