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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