On the flat-bottomed boat

we watch fat fish through the glass

flashing by under our feet

A flounder rears up, shedding sand

Doug puts a hand on my waist

A dogshark glides by

I think about catching it, for him

slitting the taut white belly

stuffing it with lemon and sugar

The guide says salmon come through here

on the way to spawn

Most of them make it back

he offers us red wine and bread

Doug pours my glass into his

I look down past my toes

and see my own pale thighs, upside down

patterned with reflected ripples

floating in the shallows.