drop me a line

A line of fish hangs from his hand
And reaches to yours.
You caught them;
He gutted them.
We will all eat them.
We will look later at the picture someone took
Of you both standing there connected
By flesh and bone.
We will look at the picture and remember
Similar sticky hot days:
When we watched the night sun color the mountains purple,
When the watermelon's drip stuck to our knees
And clung to the spaces between our fingers,
When with our feet bare against the grass,
We swayed as we gazed up at the coming-out stars--
A line of hope from heaven to our hearts.