I.
What I notice first
Is how taut the fisherman's pole is,
Yanking the line—
Like a joint before it splits
Sinew and bone.
II.
I am far from the riverbed.
Resting in my place are
Undiscovered
Nappers.
III.
As my eyes flicker,
The hallowed Lamps of
God light a path under my feet.
IV.
"'Cher, can I go to the restroom?"
V.
As I walk, the only thing
That strikes me is how still the young
Sapling is.
VI.
Wind slaps me in the face so hard
I wear a Breaker.
VII.
I spend two minutes prying open the sapling.
VIII.
Well, after I ****, of course.
IX.
Ernest Hemingway once said
To zone in on what exactly it is that draws you to something.
X.
Like the tautness of a fisherman's line, for example.
X.
Or her nimble fingers.