Nearly happy. Brilliantly lit –

That threshold of the great lake

Spilling its river. Naive pioneers,

We had no idea what we were seeing

When we watched the cut-throat beneath our boat,

Marching, massed, over the sunken threshold

Of the Yellowstone.

                                     Petty precautions

To keep our skulls clear of the whizzing leads

Catapulted from the lashing rods

Of the holiday anglers – a cram of colour

Along the bank and the bridge – took all our forethought.

We did not see what infinite endowment

Leaned over that threshold, beckoning us

With that glitter of distance as it gathered

The trout into its bounty.

                                               Little finesse,

With bumping leads and earthworms. No problem

Catching our limit dozen

Of those weary migrants, pushing and pushed

Towards their spawning gravels. What I remember

Is the sun’s dazzle – and your delight

Wandering off along the lake’s fringe

Towards the shag-headed wilderness

In your bikini. There you nearly

Stepped into America. You turned back,

And we turned away. That lake-mouth

Was only one of too many thresholds –

Till it stopped. Was that the maze’s centre?

Where everything stopped? What lay there?

The voice held me there, by the scruff of the neck,

And bowed my head

Over the thing we had found. Your dead face.

Your dead lips, dry, pale. And your eyes

(As brown-bright, when I lifted the lids,

As when you gazed across that incandescence)

Unmoving and dead.