Sunday, April 3, 2011

Alaska Series (continued)


Packing and Shipping
Few fish today.  Mr. Acena sends us to the warehouse.  We toil the day to dusk. We pallet 50 pound salmon cartons. Backs break.  Moling drives his blue Clark forklift. Careens like a carabao through rows of crated canyons. Chomping cigar, he stacks loads three high … longshore for distant tables.

Alaska Steamships anchor. We handpack cargo holes. Little time for sleep.
America must be fed.

Alaska Series No. 9


Letter from Linda (1965)
The Blue Goose, a seaplane, swoons over the town bringing mail.  Descends on King Cove’s rocky shore, delivering word from home.  We collect in the bunkhouse, like hungry chicks in a nest, our hands stretch for sustenance.  I gather my letters.  Recline on my bunk.   Linda writes:  

“My high school boyfriend’s back.  We've been dating.  I'm getting married. You weren’t ready.   Don’t write.  Mom reads my mail.  Take care of yourself.”

I slip on my waders.  Wobble from the bunkhouse to the shore-bank. Manongs clench bait-cans and metal rods,  fishing the shallow lagoon.   Lure octopus from submerged rocks.  

I select a rod and wander into the water.

Alaska Series No.  10

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