A boy casts from shore.
As the line anchors his body,
the body anchors the shore.
Line spooling and unspooling,
his arm swings like a pendulum,
like a metronome;
the hypnotic rise and fall.
He mimics the flies, their
newly hatched gamboling.
If he lets it, the boy will learn
water teaches patience.
We wait with him.
The sun slips behind a cloud.
We wait for the electric
surge of the set hook,
line wavering, sending
off tightrope-walking
droplets of lake; the trout
slashed through with pink
and green leaping high
enough to split the sky open.
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Issue 63
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Editor's Note
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POETRY
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FICTION
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ESSAY