Standing
shoulder to shoulder
on the shoreline
cane poles in hand –
jellied worms
lead weights
plastic bobbers

In wife-beater shirts and shiftless calico
they stand [some sit] urgently
fishing for the message
hidden in the murky and muddled
mass of pond scum

Those who believe –
Oh Blessed Brothers-
can become one with the bass and catfish

Under the sterile pecan tree –
like Jesus with the loaves and fishes –
Thelma fans the flies with
Lamb’s International Funeral Home
and prays for the
sheetcake to be enough
for the unexpected plethora of unbelievers
casting for eternal life