September Poem 25: The Words Spoken Rocking on the Water

Two fishermen anchored in a tin boat

Surrounded by silty beaches, scrub brush,

Thick brick walls in dollar bills, and smoking

New dams. And eddies. And dead rivers. And

Great many anglers. Allies puffing herbs

Just lit one idea and lit another.

The light edges to end one subject. To

Start another. To find no in-between.

Extreme at study from search of catfish.

The poles and hooks and tackle and bucket

Of drifting fish. Dreaming in among the

Floating ice that keeps them. Bumping the walls

And breathing in the liquid air like smoke

Pulling through their gills numbing to their end.

One thought on “September Poem 25: The Words Spoken Rocking on the Water

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