The Catch

Hook, reel in, gaff and bludgeon; no need to hurry it’s only a fish, but I wonder does that little brain in that big head, think? Does it know this gagging sky as its gills franticly suck in an invisible death, does it acknowledge the burning rays of the sun as it scorches its glittering scales? Does this still wriggling fish discern or calculate the amount of drowning air it can withstand as it is hauled into a choking death? Can I afford to think upon it, empathize. Consider that we once came out of the water, should I measure my own pain the way this fish might while I fish for an excuse and indefinitely, and with much pleasure cast another line?