Hook Poem by Kate Richardson

When Peter Pan got home
There was a note on the phone:
Call Hook. Peter knew where;
He dialed the number
To the Tick Tock Club.
“What’s up? ”he asked
When Hook was on the line. Peter
Could hear the beat of the
Jukebox through the receiver. It sounded
Like it was under water.
“It’s my hook, ”the old pirate said.
“I’m thinking of replacing it. It was fine
When I played bass in that band, but now...
And women, they think it’s dangerous. Last
One told me: Heavy Metal is so over.”
“If you kept the hook, you could be a baker.
You could knead dough, ” Peter suggested.
“Grow up, ” Hook snarled, “That’s part of the problem.”
“What, then? ” Peter asked.
Hook sighed, “Something hinged,
Narrow, grasping, like a jaw. I need to
Hold onto jobs instead of tearing them
To bits, like I do now.”
Peter said, “But you’ve
Had the same hook for so long. Won’t you
Be lost without it? ”
“Who, me? ” Hook replied, “Look, I don’t have
Time for debate.” And with a click, he was gone.