Catfish Poem by Richard J.P. O'Grady

Barbless hooks,
how easily
words trip off the tongue.

Reality
something else
when all is said and done.

A little fishing
someone said,
good for soul and mind.

Not so good
sort I've just had
impaled on jagged hook.

Long years ago
muted squeaks
as purple lobsters crawl.

But fish can't squeak!
Oh yes some can!
Impaled on jagged hook.

But fish can't feel!
I've no pliars,
I wrench and tear and thrust.

Squeak, squeak, squeak,
small catfish groans
me watching - pleading eyes.

But fish don't think!
They feel no pain!
So why am I still sick,

I dragged him out
squeak, squeak, squeak,
slow torture to his grave.