29 May 2022

By Philip Kuepper

The two men rowed   
to the spot where the fish
had been biting, yesterday.   
They rested their oars.
This was no longer the luxury   
of college rowing.
This was about bringing home   
food for the table.
They dropped anchor, 
dropped their hooks
into the rocking   
water, and waited.
They rocked waiting.   
The water slurped
against the boat,   
the boat like
a fish to the water.   
The men fished the water.
The water fished the men.   
Neither bit.
Neither took the bait.   
The men and the water
rocked at impasse, 
while in the depths, the fish
swam away, 
swam streaming away.

(25 April 2022)