Fishing

The moon is smiling
over the black ocean,
but I can not take notice.

I am too busy feeling
like God, as I grasp the pole
in my sinister hands.

Which lucky creature
will I be able
to catch - kill - this time?

And then, the line
gets tight, and I gasp,
ready to unleash my rage.

Turning and pulling -
yanking and screaming -
the ocean becomes alive.

Soon, a bluefish is flailing
over the bloody deck;
he drips with the sea.

I glare into his eyes
as he cries for water
to fill his drying lungs.

He will struggle, of course,
for quite some time -
but it will not be enough.

And as he dies, I whisper:
"How does it feel
to feel human?"


~J.V.Harker~
~Monday 1 June 2009~
~Edited Thursday 4 June 2009~