I did it!!

My first poetry assignment is done...at least until workshop on Thursday. Here's where it stopped today.


Self- Portrait as a Young Boy Fishing

Papa casts like he flicks a cigarette
off the porch into the pile beneath the bushes,

But the only thing I can do like a man is spit,
so I bend myself back into the boat like a willow branch
and let go.

It’s like falling off the Fletcher Creek Bridge,
knees to forehead, guessing when to slip
beneath the water.

I hold my breath
until I see the surface of his face
warm on me, just for getting it right.