Satisfied with the catch,
set up the campfire, a circle of
stones from a rocky riverside.
The kid can gather the kindling,
stack some sticks & maybe a bit of
blackberry bramble for pop and sweetness.
To clean the trout:
First unsheathe the knife,
never mind traces of age, and rust.
Descale the fish from tail toward head.
Scales fleck like pyrite from a streambed
and the kid is taken by the sparkle.
Second, slip the knife just under the anus
split a seam all the way to the gills:
Guts slip out in ribbons.
Slide two fingers in the hollow you’ve made,
press the spine until blood runs
in a stream down your wrist.
Now, if you wish, you can rinse
the fish one more time in the
slower current, kid reaching to his limit,
balancing the protruding boulder.
Go ahead, give him a sidewards smile,
he’ll grin you right back.
Third, strike the wood match on
dry slate and let the kid
lean it with you toward the kindling.
The fire reflecting in your eyes
reflects in his eyes, too.
Fourth, season with whatever you’ve got.
Try to find some fat to rub along the skin,
then fold a piece of foil around the fish,
place it all on a grate, or better yet
a plank of river-soaked wood just above the flames.
The fish will cook fast and with sizzle-whistle.
In a few minutes, peel back a bit of the foil,
when the white eye pops, you’ll know it’s done.
Finally, and importantly, Campfire Fish
is eaten by hand, fingers to mouth,
facing the river, backs to a setting sun,
reflection slipping below a slowing current.
📸 Photo by Donna Koch on Unsplash
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