Copper River salmon
brave and swimming out
early spring, gleaming
silver and flecked, on a
quest, flashing in blue
waters, swimming out of
the ocean on a quest
headlong and upstream
between glaciers, around
waterfalls for a 300-mile
journey to spawn in the
Copper River after riding
the crests and troughs of
waves, watching spindrift
of glitter and sparkles
that melt into the sun.

Glorious sunset
of your flesh in crimson
and roses, rich with
omega-3 fatty acids,
muscular, plump, buttery
and unguent with oils.
Copper River salmon
meant for a feast of sushi,
or glazed with honey
brown sugar, pan-seared,
or herbed with chervil and
citrus, cedar planked,
or served as blueberry
gravlax.
King of salmons, nay —
let us call you emperor of
salmons and crown you if
we could.
For thousands of years,
and still now, indigenous
people seek you out.
Once explorers put up
sails to go into unknown
waters and reach Pacific
shores, and you became a
fish of lore.

Copper River salmon,
largest and most
nutritious of all
you swim wild and free
and try to find the
happiness in things
knowing you’ll serve your
purpose
and die after you spawn.
Or perhaps one day you’ll
know the net and catch of
the fisherman.
You’ll be hoisted in the air,
all your memories will
meet the moment when
you’ll be held and loved
like something prized.