Migration

by Hamish Myers

I came back to you this year
I’d been away- seeing other seas
Who have all of your power
But less of your charm.
 
Your face has gone soft
It’s so long without a flood
Like it should have been you
That they called Pacific.
 
You let eels float by
To the places they go
That only eels and mystical
Storybooks know.
 
While I lie with the salmon
Stuffed in the pools
Trying to leave you
But waiting for rain.