I catch her words and see his fear
by Keith Shorrocks Johnson
As they pass in stolen conversation:
‘I have been trying so hard
To hold on to something.'
But how hold on?
Like the surfcaster to a line strike
Reeling in the arm-wrenching catch
Or the kingfish fighting for the sea?
Like the would-be rescued girl at the outlet rip
Slowly choking her desperate saviour
Or the brave swimmer fighting for the shore?
Or the pony cantering along the sands
Holding a measured gait and steady course
As its rider climbs and toe-grips its bare back?
If the touch becomes too taut
Is there anything to hold on to?