OR BY CROOK

OR BY CROOK

this poem
               is

unrefined
               raw

yet curiously
fine-tuned

nothing pre-cooked
or microwaveable about it

not so much
        drive through
as
   drive-by

not dead yet
still moving which

is pretty much understatement
for here it is
still
     gasping for air

thrashing about
on your table
your hook
        still dangling
from
  its fat mouth

and its hook
my hook

       shepherding its way
into yours via classic dis-
traction

you are going to know its there
wili
   have to come to terms with it.
live with it

though
    not feeling it yet