Hook was forged so deadly, was cast and edged by every thorn.
Line was spun from silk, threaded lovely and forlorn.
The two were a sly pairing, made to trap and never mourn-
And Sinker, little Sinker, for their services, was born.
~~~
Hook was adorned with spirals, was crowned in silver bait.
Line was stroked, untangled, was cast and made to wait.
They flew over territory crested with risk and hate-
And Sinker, little Sinker, hence was tossed unto his fate.
~~~
Hook sunk into grey water, molten steel, ever cold.
Line dipped past the vast shallows, halfway followed, not as bold.
They sought zero-g graveyard, sought to pierce the depths untold-
And Sinker, little Sinker, was left alone 'neath sky of gold.
~~~
Hook sought with great precision, a quarry reckoned for.
Line was trained to trail him, in path, in plan, in war.
They journeyed ever on, down, and down some more-
And Sinker, little Sinker, wondered what he waited for.
~~~
Hook was quite still-
Stomach to fill...
~~~
-Line simply prayed-
While bright fins swayed...
~~~
-Still hidden, no.
Inches to go.
~~~
Hook tastes like blood and metal, like a weak but sharp attack.
Line twists around my body, cuts me hard, the maniac!
They are no match for monsters when such monsters have no pack-
~~~
And Sinker, little Sinker,
is
pulled
under
into
black.
