Reflection

The lure, a neon green one, snags the shore station

forcing my chest to the dock filled with memories.

Cross Lake, posing as glass this morning, reveals my reflection

and forces me to notice a picture-perfect porcelain smile

I can’t escape the irony.

Somewhere, at this lake’s sandy bottom,

far below this reflection, are ten adult teeth.

And surely those teeth are smiling too,

comforted that I’ve made a full recovery.

Carefully, I untangle the lure and

reel in the raveled, yet sturdy, line.

In that moment I pause to do

what I’ve long been meaning to do.

Pray. Say thanks. Cry.

Regaining my composure, I toss another deep cast,

that lands harmlessly in the still, forgiving water.