LEMON WALLEYE.

 Lake Kawaguesaga, WI 

My brittle black hair, 

your unmarred mane of curls.

discarding my egg whites, 

along with paranoid pre-notions 

of a life without you.

I observed rain dip dusk to the pier.

It was that very fleeting moment when I witnessed weather become woman as time led her swiftly to shore, shortly after you fled via boat to fend more night crawlers..

--

the smell of lemon, grilled walleye 

flooded the kitchen.

I sat in unusual silence & noticed my admiration become timeless
 as a blanket of warm, golden light fell from ceiling fixtures onto your spleen scar.

The one that decorates your abdomen with a banner each day.

6-1-2016