The Morning You Die

For Dave

There is sun. Three geese fly 
Close enough to the water’s 
Surface to be skipped stones.

I take to the dock and hop into
The skiff, collect the tackle box
And rods from yesterday, even find
Your Islanders cap that you swore
The wind snatched.

I look out onto the lake. The sun 
Is strong, and two white perch,
The kind that eluded us all week,
Flick in the morning light.

I reach for my phone to call you.


Mathieu Cailler is an award-winning author whose poetry and prose have been widely featured in numerous national and international publications, including the Los Angeles Times and The Saturday Evening Post. A graduate of Vermont College of Fine Arts, he is the winner of a Short Story America Prize, a Shakespeare Award, and a Best Microfiction Prize. He is the author of six books, just finished his first feature-length screenplay and is hard at work on a YA novel.