Just Past(46)
The fishing pole sticks every third
turn of the reel, and the sand sucks
the thongs right off the feet. A grey
churning leaves detritus on the line
and the water looks dirty. Just past
the curving shore is a dark island,
mysterious, accessible only by boat
or ferry or quickly paddled kayak.
The dark green mangroves beckon
just beyond the reach of wading.
That’s where all the fish hide,
and the mermaids, devils, giants,
underneath the bowers and in turgid
deep waters full of fear, delight.
There’s a gentle music, the birds sing along
as the sun descends in red and pink,
one last bright raying spark to a dying day.
___________________________________
Melinda Russek 4/25/14

Just Past

  • 1.
    Just Past(46) The fishingpole sticks every third turn of the reel, and the sand sucks the thongs right off the feet. A grey churning leaves detritus on the line and the water looks dirty. Just past the curving shore is a dark island, mysterious, accessible only by boat or ferry or quickly paddled kayak. The dark green mangroves beckon just beyond the reach of wading. That’s where all the fish hide, and the mermaids, devils, giants, underneath the bowers and in turgid deep waters full of fear, delight. There’s a gentle music, the birds sing along as the sun descends in red and pink, one last bright raying spark to a dying day. ___________________________________ Melinda Russek 4/25/14