The Current in  General   

These fish have no eyes
these silver fish that come to me in dreams,
scattering their roe and milt
in the pockets of my brain.

But there's one that comes--
heavy, scarred, silent like the rest,
that simply holds against the current,

closing its dark mouth against
the current, closing and opening
as it holds to the current.

By Raymond Carver

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Other poems by Raymond Carver:

• An Afternoon
• Bobber
• Fear
• Happiness
• Late Fragment
• Photograph of My Father in His Twenty-Second Year
• Stupid
• The Best Time Of The Day
• The Cobweb
• The Current
• The Scratch
• What The Doctor Said
• Your Dog Dies