Gigging for Flounder

I used to watch 

The lights on the river

In the dark of night.

From my bed, I’d watch them 

Float through the air. So far from 

Town, the bodies that carried

Those lights were mostly hidden in the 

Darkest blue of night. The 

Disembodied lights swayed

Through the muddy, shallow water –

The air always thick with salt,

And heavy like a blanket. 

Like the crab pots, they became

A symbol of the loss of my 

Childlike faith, lost –

There on those shores.

-E.M. Morgan