Fishing

I’m imagining myself falling

No longer caught

The relief after dangling over

The edge

You’re holding my eyes

In a steady thought

I had never felt at ease-

So far from the ledge

Of the boat,

Where I had perched for years

Tangled in a fisherman’s coarse

Netting

Coaxing others to ride

Upon my rising and falling

Agoraphobic fears

I became desperately agreeable in

Letting

My body seizing up in my catching-

Frozen

So now that I have allowed myself

To dream-

I think about this escape

I’ve surely chosen

Everything (through the gaps)

Is looking like what it seems

I’m ready to fall.