Trout Spotted

Risen from the glacial moraines
Of 1989, you run through
My mind like cold water.

The oxygen you brought me
This week couldn’t be
More deadly. It fuels thoughts

That deliver this treatise. You
In a trout spotted sundress, arch
And close your eyes. I want

And need to know what’s behind
Both. I could write forever about
The science of fishing

For your furtive messages. I live
In a world where nothing
makes that acceptable. Lust

is strange in that what it drives
is rarely more than a lure. It’s
an angle that hooks me.

[important]From An Autumn Treatise for Kindle.[/important]

Comments (7)

  1. oh my, i think all that fresh air has gone to your head…haha…def sensual…and the longing is palpable…nice write…

    • Thank you Brian! I enjoyed your submission as well. Especially as a former/recovering card collector.

  2. Pingback: Trout Spotted | Kevin Webster « thebleedingpen

  3. Oh Kevin…this is the proof I needed to show my husband that he can fish AND take a stab at poetry too. I’ve been convinced of the art of fly tying, casting, currents and more…but never has the terminology been used in such a fashion around me…ha! I’m going to read this to him RIGHT NOW! :)

    • Please do Natasha! And thanks so much for taking the time to read and comment. Very much appreciated. I’ll be sure to go see your contribution this evening.


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