|Jul/Aug 2005 Poetry Special Feature|
A man pulls a shrimp
from a bucket and impales
it on a fish hook. He drops
his line and waits. I watch
from my window as he reels
back in, repositioning
the bait, now half eaten
by a clever fish, and casts
the mutant body back to the deep.
I'm polarized—anxious for a catch
but dreading the sight—fish ripped
from its water temple, tiny spear
piercing skin, stringer slipped
through gills, teasing drop
to water, a slow flop towards death.