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The Fisherman

The cowled fisherman
balances up to his waist
at the center of the Waterworks lake.
How bold was he, how tentative when
he stepped from the shore
and made the world his circle. Now he may cast
extravagantly in every direction.

Taking my retirement for a walk,
I stay to watch him make the first catch.
He raises it to his lips and kisses it,
pout to pout, I imagine, then bends,
custodian of second chances,
to release it, to give it back to itself.

Frank Ormsby

The Cincinnati Review

Winter 2017

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