Like a fish on hook
She reels me in
I fight for my freedom,
But the line gets tighter,
And the hook sinks deeper
Into my cheek
Each time I tug.
She rips me from my element,
My world below the surface,
And into the open air-
Her turf.
I gasp wildly,
But I cannot find breath.
My gills flutter madly in the dry wind.
She looks me up and down,
Searching for the chink in my armor
As she digs into her pocket with her free hand.
Her eyes ignite.
Her long, white fingers pull away from her jeans
And reveal an old Swiss Army Knife.
She unfolds the blade,
Dull and dark,
Then diligently aims it at my underbelly
Without the decency of a rock first.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
hi alyssa i beg to differ from previous comment...there is more here than meets the eye...these are painful unwitting ramblings of a soul caught on the wrong hook...wrong foot? ? very nice write cheers