The curve of your back
like a hermit crab
searching for shelter on the beach.
The ocean calls out a name
as blue waves imprison
my tiny toe.
But the hermit washes away
leaving the sand empty
of all surprises.
Near the river, I came upon an old fisherman
who spoke in a foreign tongue
I could not understand.
I sat down and looked into the same water,
but his hook had no bait.
He turned to me and said in English,
“The fish will come. Come they will.”
I waited and watched the unstirring line,
hands burning beneath the sun.
Finally, I turned to him and asked,
“What if it never arrives?”
But the old fisherman did not reply,
and as we stayed there together
I began to realize,
I was the fish.
Daughter carries | hay bale | sweat drips | down her thigh | Sun
settles | against sky | until darkness hangs | Blue roosters caw |
sound of footsteps | Danger lurks in grass | man with gun | No,
men with two guns | run to the mill | out west | grinding grain |
underneath their old boots | When did this become | manhood?
Jamie Seibel earned a Master's Degree in Creative Writing with an emphasis in poetry from California State University, Sacramento. Her work is forthcoming in Versification Poetry Zine, Wingless Dreamer, The Chamber Magazine, The Tiger Moth Review, and Plum Tree Tavern. Her poem "Children of the Sea" was a top finalist for Wingless Dreamer's Seashore Contest. Overall, Jamie's work focuses on mortality, transformation, and the environment. She hopes to publish a collection of eco-poetry one day soon.
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