I went fishing last Friday. I wrote this poem about the experience. I’ve also recorded my reading of the poem, which you can listen to by clicking the link at the end of this post. I hope you enjoy them both.
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I held Perfection
I held perfection in my hand at the water’s edge,
an elegant sea bass trembling with life,
shimmering green, iridescent eyes, flared tail,
sleek in its slick skin, sliding through my fingers.
We were paused there, the two of us, the sudsy water
bubbling at my feet, his breath coming hard now,
a shudder running through his heart and into mine,
wondering how the universe had brought us together.
I was fishing, of course, he was eating, of course,
our two trajectories joined in this moment under the sun.
I standing in his element, he naked and alone in the air.
What to do now? What action to take?
I held perfection in my hand at the water’s edge,
and could not find within myself the power
nor the purpose to scale such grandeur
to the shallow orbit of my life.
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Compassionately lovely–You once held a warm, dying bird in the palm of your hand as a young lad and asked a similar question.