They can’t see that slack net spread flat on the wall above

their watery tomb in Escouloubre where the river Aude

roars by, flinging spume into summer’s overhang. Kissing

its sun-speckled rocks a world away from these doomed

black trout lurking duped and mute. Not knowing who’ll be next

to fill the café’s pretty plates, empty-eyed, mouths agape while

their ribs come clean between swigs of bières blondes and eager

plans of how best to spend the rest of that stunning

afternoon.

updated by @sally-spedding: 11/26/17 08:59:30PM