The Poem Hunter

I sat all day in the blinds in the marsh, trying to trap a poem. I set my traps in the deep woods. I dug a hole in the ice, but the poems weren't biting. The poems were too smart for me, they were onto my ways. They'd gotten my scent and stayed away. I was getting hungry, starving for poems. I was wasting away. FEMA never brought me any poems. The government never air-dropped any Poems-Ready-To-Go. At last, a small poem came by, but it wasn't much, it didn't have much meat. I'm starting to think these regions are all poemed out. I need to head for a wilder place.