The Mirage

Boxed lures lie: belly-up, forlorn, cast-off sinkers,
line-less, relics of peaceful bygone days. In vaudevillian
colors of corny-orange: their hooks rusty, their prongs
dulled in an unalluring huddle; the bait lies unused

their drawers lowered like fathers, they recall summer
days with their flies down fondly. The boxed lures lie
belly-up forlorn, cast-offs: boat-less, rod-less reminders
upon rickety tables, these tabled reveries of mist and sun

conjoin in conjugal tension. Soon sold to gen-millennial
to: decorate walls, ghost grandparents, mind-meld the screen
dancers to the much missed external world. Where the
fish-belly white daughters and sons could sun with fathers

disconnected from the umbilical cord of the Protestant
work ethic. Box baited: belly-up, forlorn, these cast-off sinkers
line-less amble past the detritus of peaceful bygone days
when seas and lakes and ponds provided food for the soul.

Deborah Guzzi is a healing facilitator specializing in Japanese shiatsu and Reiki. Occasionally, she writes for massage and aromatherapy magazines. She travels the world to expand her knowledge of healing and seek writing inspiration. She has walked the Great Wall of China, seen Nepal (during the civil war), Japan, Egypt (two weeks before the Arab Spring), Peru, and France during December’s terrorist attacks. Her poetry appears in magazines in the UK and Greece, Existere in Canada, Tincture Journal in Australia, Cha in Hong Kong, and Eunoia Review in Singapore.

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