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.