Thursday

Thursday

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.