artwork: ralph murre
Upon Reading
by
Steve Tomasko
I
remember the dock warped, weathered, worn
smooth
from years of sun and water. Plunked
face
down I peer between the gray slats
watch
the perch slide by ignoring
my
baited hook. My young eyes fix
on
a shard of sunlight and color
that
gradually resolves into a 2-foot pike.
Floating
in place, its body ripples front
to
back, front to back looking ready to lunge
for
the perch. But with a quick muscular
flick
it disappears, leaving eddies
of
whirling sand. I shiver. I was
struck
when
I read of a father who recently found his son
in
their cabin boathouse surrounded by rods, reels,
fishing
tackle—playing an electronic fishing game.
~
first published in Verse Wisconsin (online edition)
