Bait

 

fat man

has an apple

picks a worm

from its flesh

and sticks it

on a hook

 

hangs the rod

over the river

casts the line

into the water

tugs a little

teases

 

the bait

glints in sunlight

refracting

in the water

silver sliver

whispers “feed”

 

all the little fishes

come

a-nibbling

round the worm

in the swirling

water

 

one by one

they bite

and the hook

pierces their mouths

and they thrash

in surprise

 

they pay

the price

for being

little fishes

in a fat man’s

pond

 

and their last thoughts

before they are pulled

from the water are

“that tasted just like the last time

and the time before

only slicker..”