Go Fish

The angler took the boat
Steered it to the open sea
And put the three of spades on the deck

Casts the net
Looking for life
Pushing, searching
Until a lone fish is caught

It writhes, it can barely see
Small Fry
The angler takes it
Cradles it

It grows,
Larger, and larger
But myopia still smothers its eyes
Larger and larger,
Longing to swim
Back to the sea

Nearsightedness beckons it
Go Fish, the angler says
Maybe if
He play his cards right
He’ll get lucky
Clear the fog from his eyes

The angler smiles
She says to him she’s content
She’ll be happy

The fish leaves
And all Mom can do
Is wait until he asks
If anyone has a three