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If you enjoyed this poem, you may be interested in its companion memoir vignette posted here on Poetry Soup: poetrysoup.com/short_stories/fishing_for_words_13581
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The bobber, heavy with promise, dips, while the writer’s pen lingers~ both waiting for the pull below, the sudden tension of something alive. The fisherman watches the water’s skin, its ripples like unread pages, while the writer stares at the blankness, a lake of white where shadows move. Sometimes the line goes slack. Sometimes the words won’t bite. You reel in emptiness or crumple the page, but you cast again. Because beneath the stillness, in the deep where light doesn’t reach, something shifts~ a flicker, a flash~ and you know it’s there, even if you never land it. *If you enjoyed this poem, you may be interested in its companion memoir vignette posted in Poetry Soup: poetrysoup.com/short_stories/fishing_for_words_13581
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