The Big Fish Story
 
We did not say anything.  The shoreline
scalloped for miles.  Body English
of an orange alert day, off the coast.
Anxiety of nuclear weapons.
The centrifuge spinning a menace to
the nation.  In the middle daylight, Bush
threw out his line.  Hook swallowed.  Thousands
of weapons made from small uranium.
 
The schooling fish he was after: direct
scrutiny of oil, not arms control.
Such stories floating.  The water was silk
on the skin during the last reeling in.
And not a soul, my good man, surfacing
to see it with one comprehending eye.