I was a fisher, or I was a hook in the mouth of a large mouth bass, I think, or
I was a “me" on a hook, you see, just a mouth looking for a bite.
I was a fisher ready to step right out, but what a fight it took.
I squirmed and thrashed to get that thing out, what a
fight it took.
I was a victor as a reeled it in.
There was a pulling, I tried to resist.
And I so I had my son put a net underneath.
I was then and there not in my water, was I in heaven?
I pulled the thing damned into the air.
I think I was almost spent then.
It spun around a couple times but my son got it, thank god.
I was in a mesh, I think, with sharp thing in my mouth, and I called out to my momma.
I got that thing up on the deck - thanks, son - and hit a hammer on it.
I went faint and awoke a while late in a fetid all-white confine.
We got it into a pail and let it sliver until death was about upon it.
I thought I knew, but now I didn't, what there was in life before me, and so it was, and so I thought, until they put a pot upon me.
What a tasty dish, I said to my son, just a simple river grounder.
— Gabriel Fenteany, May 29, 2014
