The Surprised Fisherman

This poem serves as a lesson and a reminder: determine in advance what a potential partner has the capacity to hold before you let them dip their line into your depths. Make damn sure they can hold a fish larger than the palm of thier own hand.

A fisherman once visited my shores.
He cast a line into the
glassy, quiet surface, where
reflections of trees and sky
hid the depths and undercurrents.

The sun and birds
were busy doing what they do.
The natural order of the stars and planets
seemed in perfect alignment.

He was surprised
when something pulled back—
so fiercely,
it brought him to his knees
to keep hold of the reel.

He’d caught something
he hadn’t meant to catch—
something ancient,
rising from the deep.

And he knew
he didn’t have the strength to lift it,
or the capacity to hold it
if he did.

Where would he put such a creature?
And what was it, anyway?

And so—
the fisherman,
who’d wanted only a quiet day
on the peaceful shores
of my glassy, reflective waters,
moved on
to find smaller fish.