photoart: ralph murre
Ham and cheese on rye
by Gary C. Busha
by Gary C. Busha
I am an old man sitting on a sagging dock,
fishing in the rain, with not a fish in miles:
it is a perfect night for fishing.
Droplets run down my glasses, blurring my vision,
but there’s nothing to see beyond the circle of light
from the dock, anyway.
I know they’re out there, lurking in the weeds,
hiding in shadows, waiting until hunger brings them out,
forcing them to react without thinking, making them
bite against their will.
Like them, I feel the gnaw of hunger working. Like them
I try to hold off, stay put, keep from being like all the rest.
But time wins out, wears down the will,
and I reach inside my coat for a ham and cheese on rye.
~ previously published in The Writer's Almanac
