Boone Lake by Rachel Sobylya

“Moonlight glints off mason jars
huddled ‘round our feet in the bottom of the canoe
squished together with flashlights, fishing poles.”

Boone Lake by Rachel Sobylya

Moonlight glints off mason jars
huddled ‘round our feet in the bottom of the canoe
squished together with flashlights, fishing poles.

Our oars break the picture of stars
with each smooth stroke
propelling us across the lake.

We paddle wide past the dam
eluding the turbine whirlpools
catching cautionless fish,

as water spills over concrete shoots.
We steer close to shores avoiding
marine police and late night motor boaters.

Sticking our oars straight down
we still the boat, relinquish ourselves
to the depths of the lake. We bait hooks,

cast them far away from uncapped moonshine,
denim shorts, bare feet relieved of flip flops
rocking with each uneven wave in the shadows of mountains.

We imagine bull bluegill,
age-less, big bellied catfish tempted
by the baited, curved hooks bobbing in the dark water.

Our palms bat mosquitoes,
folding every now and again, to cup water
splashing it across our humid heated faces.

We don’t catch anything,
except a buzz and one scare
from a string of lights on a nearby dock

flashing red, blue for a split second
or so it seemed
on the tail end of a broken gaze.

*

Rachel Sobylya received her B.A. in English and history from East Tennessee State University in 2012, and she graduated from Dartmouth College’s M.A. Liberal Studies program in 2015. She currently lives in Katy, Texas where she teaches high school English and adjuncts with Houston Community College. Her work has appeared in Headstuff, West Texas Literary Review, Gravel, and among other publications.