My line tugs once—
then something appears

beside my boat and does not move.
It is gray with hints of blue.

It is too large to lift—
I could never eat that much.

I rub its smooth bottom lip
and call it Sorrowfish.

Its eyes are clear
with purple flecks.

It looks at me.
It has always known me.

Then it slips under
like a gray sky

turning bright yellow
on its way down.