Article voiceover
I didn’t catch this salmon— Didn’t stand on the ladder With spear and net, and snare it Like my ancestors did For millennia. I bought this holy Fish at the supermarket. I cook it on the stovetop Along with asparagus. I’m feeding my family. This doesn’t feel as magical As it should. Then again, I doubt my ancestors believed That every moment Was magical. Today, I sing For all those moments When one of my ancestors Was asked what they thought Of some current event And all they did was shrug. O, the beautiful shrug. O, the lift of shoulders Toward the sky. O, the tilt Of head to left or right. O, the slightly curled lip And raised eyebrows. O, the joy of abstaining. O, the joy of dispassion. O, the joy of removing yourself From the equation. O, the joy Of eating a simple dinner Of salmon and asparagus With the ones you love the most. A dinner where nobody said Anything of note. A dinner Where nobody campaigned For your vote. A dinner where You cleaned the table, loaded The dishwasher, kissed your wife, Then, loving and loved, fell asleep Beneath the reading light.
And somehow a picture that isn’t me appeared next to my name. One of those hundred bears at work?
Perfect. And morning voice recording is a good thing.