Poem: At the creek behind my house

Beneath the rock there hid a crawdad

Fists flashing—snapping like

Robotic hands in Orson Wells’ movies.

 

The first time it missed, next

latching under my finger nail pain

sent him flying into the air—an Icarus

 

Unnaturally flying, he fell upon limbs,

Rolled down leaves, hugged the bark–

A true gladiator defending fleeting life.

 

Out of the depths rose a murky bass

Riding a pale steed of silt stirred

As a hellish looking pike followed with him

 

Accosting the bait, the line went slack

Battling against the monsters of the deep

A forsaken crawdad was swallowed unto Death.

 

Off the hook it swam away

Treasure carted down to the netherworld

Until the sun will rise, and the rock rolls away.