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There Are Lessons To Be Learned 

I don't know how to fish.
I can imagine riding in a bouncing boat
with the waves licking the bow
and stem and the wind easy
off the bay.
I can imagine baiting the hook,
tossing the line,
reeling one in.
Those parts all make sense,
but when I imagine catching the fish—
the hook jammed into a piece of flesh,
the look in the fish eyes,
I try to imagine fear
in fish terms.
I try to imagine someone
hooking me by the lip,
jaw or chin
and reeling me in.
Maybe some fish were made for anglers to catch.
In my limited fishing knowledge,
I doubt it.

Speaking of...

  • A poem by Marc Swan.

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