not forgetting the times

hooks spiked

deep past barbs

into finger-ends and thumbs,

snagged in sleeves

and trousers, or clamped

like grapnels

on an overhanging branch;

and not forgetting

how line frothed to a tangle

of candyfloss,

or dragged against a lily pad

before it snapped

to a cottony wisp;

or those times

fish were foul-hooked

in flank or fin, and once

through a soggy eye, and how

this helped to turn me

against it, and in a way console.