Stream of Consciousness

There is a freshwater stream
hidden in the ocean,
thought to hold trout larger
than the one that got away.

No one knows its edges
or what keeps the ocean at bay,
but its water is sweet and pure—
free of hooks and lures.

And although sailors
have caught glimpses
of it streaming
beneath their hulls,

I can only dream
about the sanctity
of trout in utero,
rolled up in ocean quilts,

as I walk along
this impoverished shore,
tasting salt.