The Hook

I remember 

fishing with Earl

all those years ago

the boat was green

and the dock was grey

when we caught something 

on our line

on our perilous hook

we’d release it 

back into the water

that is still my way

I keep no prisoners

I prefer creatures like cats

that invite themselves in

to sit by the fire

who choose you

dominion is too murderous

too much

like a march of armies

over the fields 

of your will

I’d rather lean towards 

one another 

with slow intimacy 

the way that the 

stars of the jasmine

twist their green fingers

over the wood of the arbor.