By Michael Delp
I am the darkness in the basement,
the moisture dried up
in abandoned reels, nets tossed into heaps.
I am the boy with no shoes trying
to thrash his way out of the swamp of a three piece suit.
I am nothing more than a map of every river left to fish,
every insect that hasn’t hatched,
I am that singing sound of the fly line
you so want to hear miles from any river.
I am the deep pit
where the river you loved
vanished in a whirlpool of career moves,
the desperate murmur of talismans
forgotten in your heart.
RWOL
© Copyright 2001, Michael Delp. All rights reserved. Page (but not copy) last modified November 29, 2001
