Any questions or concern please ask. Question and poem below
Why does the speaker in the poem let the fish go?
Look for specific word choices/lines in the poem to help you support your answer.
I caught a tremendous fish_x000D_ and held him beside the boat_x000D_ half out of water, with my hook_x000D_ fast in a corner of his mouth._x000D_ He didn’t fight._x000D_ He hadn’t fought at all._x000D_ He hung a grunting weight,_x000D_ battered and venerable_x000D_ and homely. Here and there_x000D_ his brown skin hung in strips_x000D_ like ancient wallpaper,_x000D_ and its pattern of darker brown_x000D_ was like wallpaper:_x000D_ shapes like full-blown roses_x000D_ stained and lost through age._x000D_ He was speckled with barnacles,_x000D_ fine rosettes of lime,_x000D_ and infested_x000D_ with tiny white sea-lice,_x000D_ and underneath two or three_x000D_ rags of green weed hung down._x000D_ While his gills were breathing in_x000D_ the terrible oxygen_x000D_ —the frightening gills,_x000D_ fresh and crisp with blood,_x000D_ that can cut so badly—_x000D_ I thought of the coarse white flesh_x000D_ packed in like feathers,_x000D_ the big bones and the little bones,_x000D_ the dramatic reds and blacks_x000D_ of his shiny entrails,_x000D_ and the pink swim-bladder_x000D_ like a big peony._x000D_ I looked into his eyes_x000D_ which were far larger than mine_x000D_ but shallower, and yellowed,_x000D_ the irises backed and packed_x000D_ with tarnished tinfoil_x000D_ seen through the lenses_x000D_ of old scratched isinglass._x000D_ They shifted a little, but not_x000D_ to return my stare._x000D_ —It was more like the tipping_x000D_ of an object toward the light._x000D_ I admired his sullen face,_x000D_ the mechanism of his jaw,_x000D_ and then I saw_x000D_ that from his lower lip_x000D_ —if you could call it a lip—_x000D_ grim, wet, and weaponlike,_x000D_ hung five old pieces of fish-line,_x000D_ or four and a wire leader_x000D_ with the swivel still attached,_x000D_ with all their five big hooks_x000D_ grown firmly in his mouth._x000D_ A green line, frayed at the end_x000D_ where he broke it, two heavier lines,_x000D_ and a fine black thread_x000D_ still crimped from the strain and snap_x000D_ when it broke and he got away._x000D_ Like medals with their ribbons_x000D_ frayed and wavering,_x000D_ a five-haired beard of wisdom_x000D_ trailing from his aching jaw._x000D_ I stared and stared_x000D_ and victory filled up_x000D_ the little rented boat,_x000D_ from the pool of bilge_x000D_ where oil had spread a rainbow_x000D_ around the rusted engine_x000D_ to the bailer rusted orange,_x000D_ the sun-cracked thwarts,_x000D_ the oarlocks on their strings,_x000D_ the gunnels—until everything_x000D_ was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow!_x000D_ And I let the fish go_x000D_
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