Photo by Gabriele Garufi

Fishing

Walking alone in the neighborhood, I notice a
wrinkly fisherman tying bait to his rod. Luscious
worms ooze their entrails to feed a hobby. I sit
away and lay my coat on the ground
like a picnic blanket for daddy long legs and
chiggers. Away from the fisherman but
still in the same egg of air. I try not to impede,
rather breathe—la dolce far niente—if I go outside
I will find a gilded note.
Reads: nothingness is righteousness. And the mites and
spliced worms will crawl inside this novel of
un-purpose and sully the list of directions. They will
lay eggs in the white spaces. Their children grow
in the marginalia. They too will die. Their exoskeleton will
harden to block the words underneath and
you will be left with the fisherman and his
blotchy face, in the woods, still, and it will be fine.

Maddie Baxter is a writer living in Charlotte, NC. She graduated from Wake Forest University with a degree in English and Creative Writing. She’s a fan of poetic constraints, surrealism, and public bathrooms. You can read more of her work in recent issues of Unbroken Journal, Drunk Monkeys, and Arcturus.

Maddie Baxter is a writer living in Charlotte, NC. She graduated from Wake Forest University with a degree in English and Creative Writing. She’s a fan of poetic constraints, surrealism, and public bathrooms. You can read more of her work in recent issues of Unbroken Journal, Drunk Monkeys, and Arcturus.

More Articles

Subscribe To Our Newsletter

Join our mailing list to receive the latest news and updates from our team.

You have Successfully Subscribed!