Is the angler fish ever tempted
by its own bait? Does it ever stir
from whatever trance-like state
passes for sleep in the aphotic zone,
see the glowing decoy & think,
Ah — mine! & surge forward,
jaws agape, like the proverbial donkey
tempted by a carrot? Or does it get
snappish at its traveling companion,
persistent as a bad conscience,
haunting as the image of its own death?
__________
Written for the Read Write Poem prompt, “traveling companions.” Links to other poems for the prompt are here.
For a more overtly political poem, see SB’s I Have This to Say About That, at Watermark.
persistent as a bad conscience,
haunting as the image of its own death?
very nice. Thanks for the read.
Excellent, I’ve wondered the same thing myself sometimes
a mirror image of what’s in the mirror…whew! it’s not about me
(o)
Ah, but is it about me?
Very nice, Dave.
I like your take on this, a fish I remember being enthralled with when Jaques Cousteau (must have) introduced me to it, an amazing creature.
The idea that it is snappish made me smile, and wince. And read your poem over three times.