The Hook

Image: origin unknown

You are a largemouth bass,

Micropertus salmoides,

gulping water and ushering

it passed your feathery gills,

focusing your steely,

golden eyes on that which

is just inches from your

well-practiced jowls,

undulating your dorsal fin

and tail just enough to

keep your densely scaled, robust body

suspended in the water column

so that you can decide.

The thick, ruddy

night-crawler-of-a-worm

thrashes there before you,

twisting and turning in such a manner

that your neurotransmitters can do little

more than concoct the invitation

“Eat me!”

“Eat me!” –

as if the Universe has suddenly decided

to offer up to you the winning

gastronomic lottery ticket.

You could bite,

or you could look more closely.

Here’s what I see –

A Lugumbricus terrestris

in sheer agony:

impaled,

folded,

and impaled again and again,

drowning.

The metallic barbed hook

is secured to a clear nylon line

studded with three lead sinkers.

Eight feet up a plastic red-and-white bobber

is riding the lake’s breeze waves,

waiting, eagerly

to be the spokesperson

of your demise.

The line continues on to a rod,

and then into a reel.

The ready hands on grip

are your own.

Your own.

So, what’s it going to be?

What is your karmic decision?

Are you going to get hooked

by the Old Patterns that

no longer serve you,

and perhaps never did?

Or, are you going to

seek and earn

authentic nourishment

elsewhere?

I pray that you don’t let

Self deception and

instant gratification

be the utensils of your

last supper.

©2010-2016/Jamie K. Reaser

Published in "Note to Self: Poems for Changing the World from the Inside Out" (www.hiraethpress.com)

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