Dirk Velvet- A Poem

Gone  Fishing

i remember
looking at the worms
lying in the
cool
moist
soil

even though
they weren't
below my feet
below the grass
they seemed
at home
in the white
styrofoam
cup

nothing was
really
out of place
until i sent
the steel barbed hook i held
through them

the movement of a worm
on a hook
should make you
sleepless
forever

i then cast
death
into the
black water

and waited for my
red and white
bobber

to bring me
more

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Re)verb magazine

&

Silver Birch Press

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