A coronach is Scots Gaelic for keening, a lament for the dead, and as a poet, Dunn tells us it's as simple as, "I'm here. You're gone." Dunn also writes his lament for his son's loss as deep as geologic and human history. The frame is a father and son's last fishing trip to No Name Lake for cutthroat trout. Much rhymes along the way: Eliot, Dante, Country Joe and the Fish, even General George Armstrong Custer. In these poems grief, at once personal, is also archetypal, a well from which we continue to draw.