I am a fisherman and I cast a line
to a fish that lives so far out and beyond his time
I wake early to hook the bait and wait
for my fish to open wide and swallow his fate

The temperature of the river always changes
so sometimes my line has to accommodate ranges
I stand on the riverbank, rod in hand
wondering if today is the day he’ll meet me on land

Empty and quiet it’s a still place to hide
I am alone and cold, my feet in the water, I want him inside
My stick feels a tug and the line gets tight
As my spine straightens I grip harder, this just might

Be the day my line holds, reels and peels
his cheeks off my curved shiny hook, how does it feel?
I want to hold him, smell him, take him, clean him through
until the weather won’t let him leave me blue

Resisting and pulling but doesn’t he know?
What he’ll find on this shore isn’t snow
It is summer every hour, bright, soft, naked, free
Deeper than his river, it is as wide and open as the sea

Come to me sweet fish, hang on and don’t go limp
I’ll never stop baiting my hook or making a skimp
For I yearn to nourish your bones from my land
Even if we cannot be together, let me offer my hand