Riddle Me This, by Matthew Hartman

An angler in darkness

Near as old as time

Eight great, round fishes

I’ve caught on my line

What am I?

I can run all day

Sans muscle and gristle

Get out of my way

At the sound of my whistle

What am I?

Hewn down, processed, creased

The flesh of a tree

Once frozen in place

Now glides swift and free

What am I?

Smooth among the jagged,

Mirror of the sky

Reflects puffy and ragged

Unglimpsed by fish’s eye.

What am I?

Above me by night

For home they’re ready

A flowing river of light

White stream and red eddy

What am I?

Answers in white: the sun, a train, a paper

airplane, a high mountain lake, and a highway

– Matthew Hartman

Issue 5, Out of Print
Featured in Vol.1 Iss. 5