fishing

hot sand

sifting (like

seconds in a cylinder)

through my toes

the cicadas’ song

a silkworm’s silhouette

against a sliver of grass

we sit on the slippery bank

slide down to the water’s edge

(slap-slapping against the side)

peer down at our suburnt skin

reflected

slide out the unsuspecting worms

protected by sleep

wakened cruelly by the slice of hook

into flesh

they wriggle into knots

we suspend them from shore

ignore their silent screams

slowly pulling back

releasing

casting into crystal crescents

the worms are baptized

their screams silenced

swallowed up by

the starving sea

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1 Comment

  1. Melanie said,

    July 16, 2007 at 2:32 pm

    em,
    you have painted such a vivid picture of fishing here. I love the line “the worms are baptized”…I can just imagine their “silent screams”.

    It sounds as though you had a great time. Did you catch anything?

    Mel


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