Monday, May 18, 2015

Four Days on Rarth

I cannot get my paragraph right.
I leave prescription medications
Lying around where daughter or wife

Might take them for candy or crisis.
What's your blood pressure? Are pink ones sweet?
Paragraph, ha. I can't keep my line

Straight enough to angle for one fish.
All the history I am is not
Enough history for one good lie.

I'll tell a secret. Eleven years
Gone, I sat on a speck of island
Green in a muddy brown creek and fished

Four days for a way to rewrite math
That was pure tautology before
I messed with it, so it meant something,

Measured something exact about this
Madness of living, eating, hiding.
I failed, but I saw a golden trout

In the weeds all morning, afternoon,
And evening, pursuing strategy
As an ambush predator. It glowed.

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