It was quarter ‘till nine,
eyes of sunlight began to blink.
A drowsy climb into some divine,
intoxicated on sky wine,
elderly clouds wrapped themselves in pink.
There I stood---alone to implore,
countless memories,
I once again yearn to explore.
A snap of my wrist to an aimless place,
sinking lead and lure into the murky waste.
Trees with token effigies,
of a failed ambition;
of a failed calculation.
Reminders of where the wicked bass swim,
and the curse of the hunt, driving all men to win.
There I thought---of my father,
the mighty strength of his smile;
the masterful speed of his guile.
A twitch of the braided line and I pull tighter,
glad in the moment he remains for the while.
Churning maelstrom of hydrilla,
gave glimpses of its sickly verdant scale;
carmine flare of blood and gill.
A watery nature battled an earthy Hell,
pulling harder to save the soul I try to steal.
There I fought---for lost dignity,
of the many bent hooks;
of the many bewitched lures.
Forgotten books---pages from life I took,
hoping redemption for a plagiarized infinity.
Escaping with the stinging creatures of the night,
mosquitoes, chiggers, leeches and ticks,
awaken in a signal of stings and bites.
Damned to fall for Nature’s trick,
Tomorrow another hunt; tomorrow another fight. |
Submission Name: Lures and Witch Hunts 
