| Author | Message | ||
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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 4174 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention The Blind Fisherman of Gibeon Lauriette (Laurie Byro) Before I had language, when the earth held me in her clutches I was a row of jonquils entertaining bees All buzzing around my eyes, their empty sockets, the roar of lightning, when the hairs on my wrists rose. It was easy to speak in visions. The burst of little suns, in my final moments. I became as dark as the soil where I buried bulbs. Now I am left with fingers to feel for petals that echo of color. My wife has a face made perfect by fingertips and memory. I live beneath the planks where light filters through, I hold my line slack, not positive of life in brackish waters. I throw out my hook over and over, wait for tug, a battle. A fish to reel in— to bloody. |
