Gone Fishing—for Jack Myers

by Andrea Blancas Beltran

You never told me
            You were leaving
When I asked.

You just propped up
            Your fishing pole
            By the front door,
Waited for      the perfect day.

All these years of knowing
             My heart
And its grave digging fear of loss
You chose simply
To not            respond.

You didn’t spare me.
Or the fish.