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The Pull and Pull Of a Fisherman
I mouth the words and giggle, shrill and bright
Just how you like it.
I make sure to take all the corresponding steps, to walk this sugar-glazed path
Tongue on your neck
I make sure everything’s in check, that you’re taking the bait
And I don’t want to make it sound like I’m a fisherman
As if you’re a particular catch
I’m just a kid, sticking a hand in the river
Grabbing the first fin I feel
I smile wide, toothless
You thrash in my hand, you can’t see, you can’t breathe
Your scales aren’t shiny, you’re missing an eye
Throw you into the water, let you hide in the deep.
You could never be like I wished
Scaled and icy, aquamarine
A beautiful thing, a rare beautiful thing
But you’re just a damn fish
You’re a force, an immovable force, a machine
Your eyes follow me and you want to
Play touch tank,
but you’re a grown man
So I pull a red herring and bite off your hand.
Feel the gears turning in your head
See your eyes as they think of the next step
You are a fake
And you know I would trade
You for a piece of paper with his name on it
You know it, but you still let me
Stick my fingers in your gills
Grab your fins and touch your scales
You let me play on all your strings
And then I let you swim away.
Copyright ©
March Archer
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