The Reel Thought

By Noah Rice

Iam an artist with a head full of ideas.

To the tune of Harriet, I smell the warmth of the water.

While I search for an answer I sink into my bed of weeds.

The relaxing hum of the sand cuts the skin between my toes Brings me to a place where I am at peace. I cast my line in search of archaeological remains. These fish are dinosaurs, altogether alien.

My brain bleeds with pus that has built up from a long week at school, And slowly it drips into the lake. A late afternoon breeze blows my thoughts around Making more and more sense with every swirl.

Pop, pop, pop

My body twists and jerks.

Pop, pop, pop

A fish flies through water’s glass surface, And chaos floods my mind, causing hurricanes to brew. But this time it is different.

This time it is my reel screaming and not my mind.

The sound is as peaceful as war, And with every pull, my body loosens

Until once again I am making art with every turn of the reel. It is the anticipation of movement that is so unexpected

Noah catches fish with both hands

Makes art with all his body

And along the road finds cathartic release

Oh, how the Herring Gulls sing.