“These men…trying to slip in/and pass/for the natural world” 

Jorie Graham

 

You tell me

about making flies

those tiny pretenders,

 

specific to the season

& region & species so

here might be a caddis

 

and there a midge, whatever

zings upon the surface or rides

the erratic coaster of air just 

 

above the bends and reaches

of river – insects constructed 

from wire and feathers with tweezers

 

under a magnification so intense

you enter the bug’s false eye 

and imagine what it is to be taken

 

inside the mouth of something 

that close to dying, then you 

fix it on a hook, slide into the 

 

current and cast your long

hope forth, waiting in the hush,

for your beautiful trickery to work –

 

you have told me there is nothing

more than this – this perfect

imitation of love.