Bamboo Pole

It was such a simple stroke

dropping my line into the water—

and impatiently

pulling it up again

hoping to see

a snapper swinging from

the tip of my bamboo pole.

Rippling waves stretched all

the way to the lighthouse

I watched its beacon

ebb and glow

over and over again

as I waited for

the tug at the tip

of my bamboo pole.

The six of us

cousins and sisters

hung our legs

from the edge of the dock

the hot board-wood

warming the back of my thighs

I dangled my pink flip

flops from my feet

just enough to catch

water in the foam

and throw it against my heel

up and down

went the water

my shoes

and the tip of my bamboo pole.

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