My Fish Poem by Francis Poole

On the white deck
of the boat
I lay drifting in and
out of sleep
the sun a warm handkerchief
on my cheek.
All I could think of
was my fish, my fish
whom I had never seen.
My fish of dreams
red gills
yellow fin
bright hook in her lip.
In the middle of a sigh
she came to me
a green bottle floating
in from the sea
and beached herself on my
hand-held line.
Now she who calls the water
by another name
is my sister
mine own fillet.

--Francis Poole