TJ (17th June 1958 / England)

Fishing

Still can’t believe it.
Still reeling from the six-word shock
From a future, former friend who was never a father:

“Maybe they’re better off without you? ”

Torn between being appalled
By the bite of the barb on a man-hungry meat-hook
Spliced to the end of a 25-year-friendship-breaking-strain line
And being too damn’ tired of dealing with unnecessary hurt
To bother to rise to the bitter bait,
I watched the weeds of blind judgement snag fast his fatal intent.

He cut the line without trying to loose it.
I cut my losses: no choice but to choose it.

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