Poem: The Riddle

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Winslow Homer, American, 1836-1910, The Herring Net, 1885, Oil on canvas

 

The Riddle

I am a net
tossed into the sea.
Weights in the corner
drag me down.

One hard jerk
secures the catch.
Winch and pulley
draw me back.

Wet and heavy with
dinner and debris

If I could be used
for something different
Tablecloth
Rug
Curtains

A net to hold fruit,
a wall hanging,
broken apart, unraveled,
re-knitted into a sweater

But I am a fish net
thrown out to the storm
my value—
is caught between spaces.

-by SPL

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Published by Shannon Laws

Shannon Laws is a poet, producer, and advocate for the arts. She is the recipient of the Village Books Literary Citizenship Award, with two Mayor’s Arts Awards and the Dr. Asha Bhargava Memorial Award — Community Champion. Shannon is the author of four poetry books, one poetry album and publishes Corridor, a free monthly poetry zine. She lives in Bellingham, Washington.

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