There was a time
when I ached for a man
so I advertised, and Dan replied.
Not handsome but long and lean,
he lived in a Sierra Madre cottage,
drove 18-wheelers all week long,
rarely cracked a book.
The sign on his front door read,
“Fish tremble at the sound of my name.”
I had no interest in catching fish
but liked floating in his boat
on weekend mornings on lakes
we could get to by dawn,
jouncing up the freeways,
the skiff latched to the jeep,
too much noise to talk,
and then the peace of bobbing
beneath a brightening sky.
Once I wrote a poem
about a cove on Lake Piru
I dubbed the Nookie Narrows
because of what we did there,
not easy among oars and orange
lifejackets, tackle box
and extra poles. “That’s
a bestseller,” Dan said
when I read the poem to him.
Wherever he is now
I hope he’s been married
a long time. I hope
the largemouth bass
still quiver when
they hear his name.
is the author of three chapbooks, most recently Cauldron of Hisses (Arroyo Seco Press, 2022). Her poems have been published in The Missouri Review, One by Jacar Press, Natural Bridge, Permafrost, Gleam, The Rise Up Review, The Sow’s Ear Poetry Review, The Ekphrastic Review, Gyroscope, and other literary journals. She has been the recipient of fellowships at Dorland Mountain Arts, The Mesa Refuge, The Helen R. Whiteley Center, and Alderworks Alaska. She lives in Southern California.
