Fishing

Dan and Ray are trying to fish,
emphasis on the word trying.
They’ve snagged, so far, a boggy stump,
a scrap of chicken wire, and an empty
burlap sack. The clouds are flat-bottomed
with shredded crests, thoroughly white.
The boys’ orange floats bob on still water.
A family of ducks paddle by in a line,
disregarding the gold hooks dangling
beneath their webbed feet, ignoring
the wet-backed otters who skim past,
their black eyes focused on something
we can’t see. These boys are beautiful
in their intensity, sun on their narrow backs,
the hands they can’t keep still, until their lines
are dropped into the center of the pond
and they sit down, satisfied as old men,
and tuck their elbows between their knees.
The blackberry clusters are swollen
with bees, and the mallards
are composing their toneless song.
I will love them until I die, and beyond.

 

© Dorianne Laux