Notes About The Poem
the following poem was written in response to above image for an online poetry class
NIGHT FISHERMAN
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I drift off to sleep, casting my nets into the dark,
where thoughts dart silver, quick and wild~
a phosphorescent bloom of sharks,
the glint of something half-defiled.
They rise like soup, these shapeless things,
half-snail, half-song, half-broken wheel,
with moth-wing sighs and piano strings
that hum the tunes I cannot feel.
The catch tonight? A tooth, a key,
a lost lover’s face dissolved to mist,
the weightless thrum of what might be
entwined tight with what does not exist.
I reel them in—my surreal prize~
all writhing light with fevered ink,
then wake to find them in my eyes,
still sinking, soft, and blurred at brink.
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