Dreaming with fishes

In memory of Tamia Doll

She would be out in the boat
near Summerstown
outwitting sundry perch.
She would watch the other boats
scattered like distant ducks
at the desultory edges of weed beds.

When it was impossible
to fish, she would commit
painting:
silent boats
scattered like lost stars
at the edges of possibility.

The fingers that twisted
worms and minnows
onto hooks
also twisted pigment
and oils into
real dreams.

Some time after she was
dragged down into her own dream,
they found her works
stacked in her flooded basement,
muddied beyond even
the power of sleep
to recall.

The voice of the poet

riverwriter reads:  
Perch Fishing near Summerstown

Perch Fishing near Summerstown . by Tamia Doll

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/wordcurrents/ Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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