Written by Thomas Cannon
They came to swim today
off the dock in the pond
I had pumped the water away
thinking they wanted a giant hole
But they didn’t seem to notice.
I became the silence rolled over me
like the tarp sheathing the winterized boat
on its side in the sand
Putting my feelings
in the top drawer of the dresser
that sits in the hall
I stepped out of
the warmth of the house.
Closing my eyes I walked
into the silty mud of regret.
we talked of fishing.
as they stood on the shore.
Text © Thomas Cannon
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