O, crawler of the night, I pray
That thou doth not resent this day.
Grudge me not that I must take
A hook to make thy belly ache.

But in this murky pond, methinks..
And as thou on an egg weight sinks,
That swimming knight in plated mail
Might be inclined to munch thy tail.

And thus be caught, yet try to sprint
From straining monofilament.
But I, Oh I, the water's lord
Shall see knight lay on cutting board.

Forgive me, friend, for this, my vice.
I'll not let fade thy sacrifice.
In verse I'll speak thy final plight..
My supper's final meal tonight.

© Nathan A. Brock