8 March 2005 | Vol. 5, No. 1
The Angler's Lot
We met in the apartment of accident. You carried weapons: a pen, plastic bags, a grocery receipt; necessary means of transience, unnecessary hubris. My tongue was barbed. I reeled you in from the streets below. I called you sister, wave, night of many wolves. We drank coffee from plastic goblets and stood next to each other like bruised milk bottles, fearful of movement. I cast you like a pearl back into the street hoping you would return to me as a loaf of bread or a blind dove dangling on the winds of fate.
About the author:
Andrew Lux teaches English at a high school in Rhode Island. He teaches students how to write in a creative writing club on Tuesday afternoons. His work has previously appeared in Pettycoat Relaxer. He can be reached at .
For further reading:
See the complete list of work by Andrew Lux at 42opus. Browse the contents of 42opus Vol. 5, No. 1, where "The Angler's Lot" ran on March 8, 2005. List other work with these same labels: poetry, prose poem.
