Less Lazy Than I

I found this poem paired with a photo at flickr. I like it. Wondering whether or not there is more where this came from. Is anyone familiar with Enid Shomer? A Google search didn't turn up much in the way of her poetry. But then I didn't spend much time looking--so hoping there is someone out there less lazy/more informed than I.

Our lures trail
in the prop-wash,
skipping to mimic
live bait. Minutes ago
I watched you
cut up the dead shrimp
that smell like sex.
Now we stand, long
filmy shapes jigsawed
by the waves, and wait
for the rods to arc
heavy with kingfish.
We bring the limit
of eight on board,
their teeth gnashing
against the lures.
And I think how tender
all animal urgency is—
these fish thrashing
to throw the hook,
or a man flinging himself
into the future
each time he enters
a woman. This
is what I picture
all afternoon: you
inside me, your body a stem
bent under the weight
of its flowering,
as beautiful as that;
how carefully
you would lower yourself,
like something winged,
a separate order
of fallen thing
from these angels with fins
who know only once
the difference
between water and air.

—Enid Shomer