By Carl Boon

wait for large-mouth bass in elm-shade.
Having announced their presence
in the Big Bride Baptist Church today,
and sung, they reach into their coolers
with tender hands and bring up cans
of Busch Light and sandwiches in plastic
their wives prepared. They are happy
even if the bass don’t bite, and happier,
still, when they slide their Smoker-Crafts
into their garages, a little sunburned,
a little tipsy, and their daughters
greet them and pull their Cincinnati Reds
caps down over their ears, hoping
they’ll sit on the stoop and shuck the corn
and listen to their boy-dilemmas
and notice their nails polished pink.

Copyright Boon 2016