Carol Barrett

The Sword in the Lake

What makes a grown man swallow a fish whole, fresh from the hook, take it down like an oyster, three-inch bluegill with spines along the back that slide down the pink throat, that raise up when the fish is coughed back? July 25 at Klineline Park in Hazel Dell, Sheriff Beiber found a fishing line with leader in the water, a carton of worms, backpack, wallet, shoes, two empty beer cans. No sign of struggle. Todd Lawer had fished with his father since he was a boy. Todd would have known about those spines, died of asphyxiation a short distance from the trail. Paramedics had to clear the obstruction with pliers, goring the throat. How does a father swallow such news? Another bluegill floating in the water, fifteen feet from shore.

Carol Barrett began writing poetry to support the widowed women she was counseling. She has published three volumes of poetry, most recently Reading Wind, and one of creative nonfiction, Pansies. An NEA Fellow in Poetry, Carol has taught the craft to students ranging from kindergartners to doctoral candidates. Her creative work appears in over sixty anthologies, and in venues in nine countries. Carol currently lives in Bend, OR.