Smoked Whitefish

I don’t dislike smoked whitefish,
Not at all, but
If there’s a choice, I will, inevitably,
Choose something else.

I’m trying to imagine the situation
Where, given all sorts of food
In front of me,
I reach for the smoked whitefish.

And now I’m praying that I
Live long enough to
Have exactly the right adventures,
Discover the craving,

So, when the time is right, that happens.

July 2026

Note: This poem would not exist if I had not, ages ago, read Naomi Shihab Nye’s poem The Urge for Epasote in her delightful book Mint Snowball. I’ve had many influences in my life, and the writing of Naomi Shihab Nye is one of the big ones. If you have the good fortune to come across a copy of Mint Snowball, for goodness sake buy it and read it.