In the bait of innocence
I am innocent,
He protests vehemently,
To those listening,
He persuades so intently,
This is the innocence,
You might well observe on a
fishing boat,
Here with a fishing rod,
Cast into the water with a
visible float,
Then on the defensive,
He avers to make the crucial
insignificant,
By which time you are ensnared,
And to run or flee you obviously
can’t,
You are a victim and a slave,
To the lure of words that have
you in a grip,
Before you can come to,
You have been taken on the longest
trip,
For to be totally blameless,
Is that rather longing wish,
And when absolved of guilt,
Of what the bait said to the
fish,
The piscine catch,
Glistening beautifully in the
sun,
Is taken to a new world,
Way away from its sense of fun,
Prepared sumptuously,
For a hungry and waiting palate,
Of what became a dish,
Innocent is not what you’ll call
the bait.
