Cod-fodder, grey weather, Bluegill blood
smeared on the chop-boards, a dark pond smell
of mud, rain and grass from the quick-slit belly.
Thunder disturbing the walls, the downstroke
precipitous cleave disengaging body from head;
flashes of bright, crooked needles piercing
through cloth. Gem-like beads shaved from
the flesh, glinting white, silver and red
in a scored metal pot of entrails and gills
as storm clouds digest the leftover light.