Decoy
Is the angler fish ever tempted by its own bait? Does it ever stir from whatever trance-like state passes for sleep in the aphotic zone, see the glowing decoy & think, Ah — mine! & surge forward, jaws agape, like the proverbial donkey tempted by a carrot? Or does it get snappish at its traveling companion, persistent as a bad conscience, haunting as the image of its own death?
Written for the Read Write Poem prompt, “traveling companions.” Links to other poems for the prompt are here.
Dave Bonta
SourceLicence:CC BY-SA 4.0