This week’s poem conjures fishing in the cold of October. I am not a fisherman, but I almost want to be after reading this poem.

David Stankiewicz lives in Cape Elizabeth and teaches writing, literature and ethics at Southern Maine Community College. His first book, “My First Beatrice,” was published by Moon Pie Press in 2013.

Poets, please note that submissions to Deep Water are now open. There is a link in the credits below.

Thank you for reading these Sunday poems over the last three years. This is my final Deep Water column, but I look forward to reading each week’s poem selected by Portland poet Megan Grumbling, starting next week.


By David Stankiewicz


In the granite light

a faint footpath leads

up a slope then down

among the lowering trees

to the untried side

of a deeper, plunging run.


All afternoon in

the leaden water—

no fish, cold and numb—

the strike, when it comes,

is a revelation,

sudden animation,


spark before dark.




and the door shall be



the river’s door


whether or not

you get what you came for

whether or not


the hook holds.


Gibson Fay-LeBlanc is a poet who lives in Portland. Deep Water: Maine Poems is produced in collaboration with the Maine Writers & Publishers Alliance. Poem copyright © 2019 David Stankiewicz. It appears here by permission of the author. Submissions to the Deep Water column are open through the end of October. For more information, go to