Grandpa taught me how to fish between Fourteenth and Broadway
salt-split line cast towards cement seas, sun-licked, froth spun
tide breaking upon the backs of the sleepless city.
The tips of the Empire State Building scraped
the soles of my feet as I swam in the Atlantic
metal spilling salt to the Sound, gliding
above Bowery and boroughs alike.
High tide snuck beneath the subway,
lifted it whole off the tracks,
careened it through currents like a toy train
tugged by kelp and seaweed.
“Wait to see what bites,” he said,
luring pelagic people
with dreams and nets of steel
and I could see
this was a city of air
above water, roots drilled deep
I became a disciple like him
devout to green and blue passages
and the ocean of New York City.
We watched as the water became a home
to upright dining chairs and dinner plates
life set to be lived on the rivers of 16th street,
and still we fished.
Taylor Bond is a 2014-2015 Lannan Fellow, a writer for FireBack Records, and a freelance photographer. Her work has appeared, or is forthcoming, in The Anthem, Spilled Ink, Behind The Counter, Wimapog, and The Camel Saloon. Her latest focus is combining digital media with poetry to enhance the narrative experience.