A poem about fish called a creek chub caught at the bottom of beacon Hill Dr. st.Charles Mo in Cole creek.
They swim around and hide from me
when I come over by them
they swim around in search of food
and will race to what ever hits the surface of the water
even if its on a hook the will bite and fight for the food
then when I pull them up they struggle to get free
I want to cook it but not hurt it
so instead of suffocating it I put it in a bucket
to ensure a slow and non painful death
I am afraid to cut it open and take its entrails
the knife drags the skin instead of cutting it
so I move it like a saw at the creek chub’s skin
I removed the entrails and wash it
I rolled it in flour then fried it
I eat part of it then thought
poor creek chub
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