To Exist Outside

A walk would do me good, they said -

a brisk jaunt at water’s edge,

to stain my pale skin pink, and fill

my lungs with hopeful air.

 

Along the dock I found my stride,

avoiding the iridescent entrails of fish,

and discarded J-hooks, glinting,

like long abandoned jewelry.

 

I caught the rhythm of laughing men

casting lines into a muddy harbor,

and I imagined breathing easier beneath

that murky reflection of Eos’ indigo eyes.

 

Leave this cluttered chamber, they said -

you are fading into the papered walls,

wilting like a snipped Hyacinth, and strangely

it seemed, I traded one mausoleum for another,

 

as rough hands pulled curved metal

from wet throats, and together,

(the fish and I) our sides heaved, as we

tried desperately to exist in the wrong world.

Reviews

[Frieda P]

I'm not sure who I felt more sympathy for, you or the fish...'hands pulled carved metal' ouchie, gave me that fingernails on chalkboard feeling effect. More straightforward from your pen than I'm used to reading I think, still same impact, always an affecting read Friday.

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Thank you, Frieda...I do tend to go from one extreme to the other. lol

[Frieda P]

Keeps life interesting ha, my pleasure ;-)

[Jonathan Ballam]

Wow... I'm in awe of your metaphors, and your visceral images. I've grown up with a father as an avid fisherman, so many of these images feel very authentic to me.

I'm buying what you are selling ;)

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

I'm glad! Thank you so much. I tend to write what I see and have experienced, so this actually happened, so I'm glad I got it right.

[Jonathan Ballam]

Nothing speaks louder than our own experiences. I follow much the same pattern. ;)