Sunday, Mid-April
by Christopher Locke
for Gary
He sets the fly and casts,
thin arc unfurling over
water, running a length
of mirrored sky—clouds
ripple. Silence rolls
its tongue against the long
buzz of waiting as more line
unspools. In the pines,
a jay snags his voice
on spindled branches.
Christopher Locke was recently nominated by Willows Wept Review for a Pushcart Prize (Woo-hoo!). New poems forthcoming in Agenda (U.K.), Alimentum, Poetry Salzburg Review, and Tuesday: an Art Project. His full-length collection End of American Magic is due out with Salmon Poetry (Ireland) in 2010. Chris lives in New Lebanon, NY, with his wife and two daughters and teaches literature and writing at The Darrow School.
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