I’m squinting again
as I come back into the light
after rattling over another covered bridge.
I should slow down.
I do slow down.
Maybe it’s about forgiveness
for what comes next,
for the two boys at creek side—
wouldn’t you like one to represent pure goodness
and the other pure wickedness—
killing fish, how
the second boy hesitates
before smacking the brook trout against a slab of slate.
How would you like it
if they were more than children?
What if I told you
this was the prescribed method for children
without a blade to dispatch brook trout?
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Photo by James Mann/Flickr