Your muscles are
tanned
and lean
Your piercing blue eyes are
patient
and see
everything.
It is morning.
The throw net
is draped
over
your left shoulder.
As you
wait for the
precise moment
to hurl the net.
The first throw
directs the next
and with each pass
more and more
are harvested
and released
onto the dew soaked grass.
In their final struggle
to stay alive
they arch
and flip back and forth
across the void
to escape back
into the cool dark water
beneath the lily pads.
But-- their fates are set.
Filleted without delay,
resulting in
one last swim
breaded
in hot oil.
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