Gone Fishing

You’ve never been one to fish,

but you wait patiently as I do.


We’ve been on the boat for hours
without one catch. Not a single snapshot
to tape to the refrigerator, Caught that walleye
at the Willows, I might say.


Not one catch.  


I work at the bait shop

to pay for my fancy for trendy clothes
and for your addiction. I look good in blue.
And you’ve got that new tattoo on your right arm.


You buy my worms and hooks.
and the fish take it all for free
but avoid the hook.

The water turns from clear to cloudy
as the sky darkens and the horizon is bright with endings.


I make my way to the back of the boat, to the tackle box
and the cooler. I wish I could say why it is that I come
and bring you here with me.


The water reflects in the murky bank.
The sun threatens to disappear.

Behind the walls of the willows
is a backdrop of cottony clouds.
I can see the fish in the river
peering at me through the moving tide.

c. Melissa K. Furbush, 2007