![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFMwtR0q8V6QlzTo_Jwp8wcA8I6LuFlb9pUSVZ77rjN7ID3fq9j-4i3YuDcZTIyDyMcvYg9xoFdVxcRRrMTEj8ozCEzQ51ubWAuKtgQ8pzWqY6D-WQQ3s_sbC5KWjeUlpEU2ccEkhuSEJO/s280/bonneville_dam.jpg)
The Fish Counter at Bonneville
Downstream they have killed the river
and built a dam; by that power they
wire to here a light;
a turbine strides high poles
to spit its flame
at this flume going down.
A spot glows white where an old man
looks on at the ghosts of the game
in the flickering twilight--
deep dumb shapes that glide.
So many Chinook souls,
so many Siverside.
William Stafford
Posted over on William Stafford Archives
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