The Corduroy Mtn. Poem For Fish I Didn't Catch Troy Urquhart T hree men under the grey of light rain cast nets from the high bank where creek empties into bay. One gathering in his hands, one in the water, watching it settle, one pulling up, hand over dripping hand. As he lifts over the bank's edge, nine silver fish writhe to break free, squirm for lives now lost. previous | next Added to The Corduroy Mtn. on December the thirtieth in the year two thousand and eight.