At Dusk, As I Urged The Fish To Bite

I remember the lake light shining like a disk as I fished for perch or pike at dusk, as I urged the fish to bite, bite a spoon of shimmering bait. I remember bats flitting and circling like the insects, they longed to catch and ripples left by fish that were no match I remember Father's blunt roll-call home! The boathouse, a sarcophagus with its two-well-rotten doors gaping open like-malnourished jaws awaiting Death's ferryman back, back to those perpetual, keepnet-shores. I remember the rolling fog rising about the gnarled chestnut trees billowing out into brackish red reeds and a slice of scaly moon leaping: That frantic-fish pulling line from my spool. I remember the lake light shining in the scales of a real living ghoul plucked out of the water, fighting a fish - that wasn't one-bit preschool.