SHARK
The late summer breeze
carried the saltwater smell
of far horizons and fish.
I leaned far out
over the rail,
cracked and burnt by wind and sun.
The greedy splinters
grasped my shirt,
but I,
unaware of their need,
watched the man in his boat,
hardly large enough for him,
as he struggled with the shark
that out of curiosity or need,
perhaps pursuing prey,
had swum too close to the pilings
and thereby discovered eternity.
Impelled by the gaffing hook
and already dying,
the server
and
receptacle
of fate,
tried to intimidate
with its malevolent eye,
but I thought it too small,
to frighten any
but creatures
smaller than itself.
(Hands spread wide,
the hands of a man whose grasp
never exceeds his reach,
would make the fish too big.)
As it thrashed around
in the bottom of the boat,
beating away its last breaths,
its mouth open
showing ivory razors,
I came to understand
that even small sharks
possessed the power
to rip out a heart.
.
