Fishing

It was like fishing

Something began to tug on the line

The bobber danced, frantic like the tail of a honey bee

I didn’t even know I liked the sport

Until I saw you there

Your colors all washed over and sinking into one another

And that tug!

That tug of yours

Sent me

Spinning, luring, winding

But I refused to enlist the help of others,

Determined

To wind the line back around the reel myself

I maneuvered myself with the most grace I could muster

Round and round

Even though you inched closer

Your aspect growing calmer with every

Inch. I still ached.

You were out of reach.

I had the reel in my hand

I was quickly learning strategy and technique

But I wanted to shoot right through you, as fast as I could

For the sake of experience

Spinning, Luring, Winding

Spinning, Luring, Winding

For as long as I could bear

And then I lost my Patience

I grabbed the line

And yanked hard

Painting a full arc backwards against the sky

You flew through the air and landed

With a wet splash of astonishment

I watched you flounder about

Trying to catch your eye

Your colors were like mine

Soft pearly green and midnight

Shaped like the wings of a nightengale

Shape of my heart

You looked up out of your confusion

And gazed at me

I had a song or two to share, I said

I said I was sorry for the hook

And I would remove it

If you promised to talk to me . . .

Your words were like mine

Easy, clean, and clear

Both indirect and direct

We talked about being like butterflies and moles

Never left alone, and yet alone.

And I was afraid to whisper in your ear

For fear the intimacy might disturb you

What might happen then?

You might start flipping about again

And I’d have to watch you leave me . . .

I relunctantly removed the hook from your mouth

And stood back to see what you would do.