In fiction
they say
you have
one hundred words
to hook the reader;
one hundred words
hanging together
like a globule
of salmon eggs
wrapped around
a number 2 snelled
long-shank, to plunk
into the slipping
current and let down
over riffles into
the dark eddy  
where he waits,
gill plates
barely stirring.

The poet has
one word.  

A fly
tethered
on invisible
monofilament
spun out,
glistening
in the sun.

A tiny charge
of meaning
dancing alone
over a silvery
surface:
Coachman
Butcher
Gnat
One word.

Wrist flicked,
rolled forward,
skimming,
luring,
enticing
the reader
to strike
open mouthed,
taking the hook
straight into the
gut.

Yvette Viets Flaten, Eau Claire, writes short stories and long historical fiction, but it is in poetry that she finds a deep and resonating voice. Her poetry has appeared in numerous journals, including the Midwest Review, Red Cedar Review, Barstow and Grand, as well as many Wisconsin Poets’ Calendars. She was recently interviewed on The Writer’s Almanac, as part of Garrison Keillor’s Pandemic Poetry Contest. Her poem, “Riding it out,” was one of 10 winners.