Old Man and the Sea

by Vern Fein

Our nation begins to attack fishing boats,

supposed drug dealers, fentanyl.

But these are fishermen, one old man

and his sons blown up. 

Venezuela sues us for murder.

Suppose, a long time ago, an old man

was fishing from his skiff,

angling for one last marlin

one last big fish to validate his life,

to give himself something to do

as his time was waning.

He caught a monster, 

talked to his fish, rued 

that he hooked the marlin.

Sympathized—so much regret, regret.

Thought of letting his trophy loose.

Then the plane flew overhead,

Instantly, this Hemingway was dead,

Not a drug dealer, just

an old man on his sea.