Muck caked soles and choking shins. 

Blotched cheeks, lungs squeezed. 

Tracing a trail left by bigger boots, 

Chasing a high left by a cautious blue eye. 

 

Golden brown, bowl-cut bangs, 

Hat probably pink, but who can say? 

A trickling stream, those squelching squacks, 

An offshoot of reeds and a riveted seat.  

 

She didn’t care what she’d hook. 

Only that her dad would look.  

 

His days passed, foot to floor. 

Grease and sweat and dirt and grime. 

A blackened sink, a green crusting pipe. 

A bedroom door shut tight at least a few times each night. 

 

Imperfect, maybe, but a slave to the clock. 

And that, she watched, and she watched. 

Effort and duty despite the cracked cans, 

Devotion and love under a society’s sediment.  

Splintering bones, a cold-coiled stomach; 

A cost that felt worthwhile.  

 

And what did the nurse say 

When she was called on her bluff?  

I just found someone better, 

And you’re not enough. 

 

He chewed up his heart, 

And it pulsed between his teeth, 

And he smiled at the bleed, 

Because she was watching. 

 

The engine roared, the gravel snapped. 

The glaze pierced his eyes. 

He thought himself weak. 

She pinpointed lies.  

But the nurse was long-gone, 

And some things never changed. 

 

A blue crawler tub and some nylon string 

Hoist back, reel down, 

Try this way, or this spot.  

Simple hours on simple tasks 

A flailing catch, another cast. 

 

What good was anyone else? 

When they had themselves,  

and the brook trout.