Our bodies fasten to whatever's nearest; something hidden nibbles on a clear line and we yank it home. All day, inverted billows swallow our offerings, raw life red inches of flesh 5 pinned like a college sweetheart, thrown to silver bodies that come thwacking through the sky to stiffen in our below-decks ice chest. Live nets coil in our hands and slacken; we cannot master the minutest mysteries.... 10 heavy waters trouble our pumps, and we heave into evening; it is dark; everywhere the slightest events evade us; a fly specks the fish. Packed in the lamplit cabin, I claw a book, written by one drunk for you, the other.
From the collection "Red Bank"
Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
More information available on gregglory.com.