dangerous compassions

I call you / from the comet's cradle

Monday, January 06, 2014

hooks

There were some unused fishhooks scattered on a mound of hard sand by the river.  They were so beautiful and silver.  I picked them up and put them into the small plastic bag they came from.  There was writing on the bag in Chinese. 

"They're so beautiful," I said.

"Should we keep them?" Ming asked.

"What would we use them for?" I asked.

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home