The gobies were such goofy looking fish.
They clogged the bay, in my mind worse than carp.
The carp you only saw once they were dead,
their bellies skyward, drifting sideways-- ick.
The zebra mussels split my calluses.
Their dreadful slits could cut diamonds. Once
while swimming I came face to face with some
benighted jawless beast’s suction cup teeth.
The gobies’ only crime was their success.
We drew them from the water, hammered
them, bodies squished on pavement, fifty cents
for each head. Mr. Samyn led the hunt.
Saint Lawrence had brought us them, mistaken.
A conquest like earthworms, in ships, sinless.