Sitting Next to My Brother’s Ghost on the Dock at Our Grandparents’ House
Kimberly Glanzman
sunrise unfastens
the shadows
weighing
on the water. light
leaks between
my toes. the fish
flash, silver-backed,
unafraid
of your fishing
pole, rusted
and forgotten
in an old plastic
bucket. in the cool
of the lake,
my feet float;
the fish come
close enough
to touch. you must
be kinder
to them
now.
