Fishing

it started with a line

of fishing thread from your
nodding head to my oar
slicing into water, rippled
into me by you

and it grew into a little
flame. a kindled breath we
exhaled into life and you
had the thimble on your thumb
that snuffed the light right
out

it ended with a sigh
a fissure down our backs alone
apart from you, from my
bones or muscles or the curve
of your nose

and it left me with a little
heart. a shriveled piece of plastic
that I tie with short elastic
bits, to help it get back-
wards in time, resembling
what I was with you