Angling for fiction
Angling for fiction
In a night of perfect black...
She is hanging out her bait hook,
Let's it settle with some tact
To the bottom of the evening where
She wriggles off her yoke...
Now she's tapping into currents;
Draws the moon down
Between spokes
Of an overturned felled applecart
That was once a means to feed
That wolfish yearning for discernment...
O, how to shed her skin through work...
It's a method of engagement
That can drive the young up walls...
So few have persistent patience
For the other shoe to fall...
Angling for fiction...
Out there through the wind and sleet,
She is
Angling for fiction
Writing sonnets fit to eat
That will justify the silence,
And draw lattice overhead...
Causing eyes to dance from
Tree to tree,
Gliding over waterbeds...
Whistling vast like racing sparrows
On a dash to be the first
To find a clearing of anointment,
Some great balm for restless joints...
Caught her out there in her magic cloth,
Holding court with frogs and crickets
Where the swollen stars hung down...
She was angling for fiction
Wearing hibiscus flower crown
Fashioned out of her enjoyment...
From her pleasures and her pains...
And I watched in utter rapture
As she blossomed in the rain...
1/20/24
Bunny Villaire
Edit #2