PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I practice the art of the silent cast.

Not in a river, but here in the dark of my own room.

The line I throw is made of memory,

it arcs, weightless, toward the opposite wall.

I am trying to hook something.

Trying to feel the subtle tension

of a connection that isn't there.

The skill is in the wrist, they say,

in the patience, for a line

you know is only tied to the dark.

It's a beautiful,

pointless work for making the

quiet look like a conversation.

And when I reel the line back in

I swear I feel a tremor,

for just a second,

before it vanishes.