
Cora McCann Liderbach lives on the shores of Lake Erie in Lakewood, Ohio. Her poetry chapbook, Throughline, was published by Finishing Line Press in October 2024. Recent poems appear in Quartet; Unbroken; Light Enters the Grove and The Ravens Perch. She was a 2022 Best of the Net nominee.
We track her changing shape—
from glass to churn to chop—
below our cliffside condo. What
swims beneath Lake Erie’s surface
bewitches my husband, who dreams
of wrestling and releasing a huge
sturgeon. Their young are loosed
into the Maumee River each year
to migrate downstream to Erie.
I find the fish strange—unchanged
from Jurassic times. They can
live 150 years, grow to 20 feet.
Bony scutes armor their backs,
bellies and sides; their barbels tickle
riverbeds, their snouts snuffle
lake-muck for snails, worms
and crayfish. I root for their safe
passage; the prehistoric prowlers
siphon invasive zebra mussels,
transport freshwater mussel
larvae to battle algae blooms.
This lake feels like home to us—
a fitting place to scatter ashes.
I hope to rest in Erie’s sediment;
my husband yearns for a sturgeon
to vacuum up his ashes, roam
our lake’s benthic zone; leaving
more ashes to drift into roaring
Niagara; tumble her thunder
into Lake Ontario; float eastward
on the Saint Lawrence River; chill
for a spell in her estuary; then spill
into the ancient brine where life began.