Poetry

The Fisherman

Like a freak wave it’s upon you the squall
of screeching gulls, their taloned beaks
piercing the thrashing sea, hungry for fish,
hunted below by big-muscled kahawai.

In the chaos of feeding, slippery bait
hacked on board, brown guts dripping
through fingers fumbling with line and hook,
desperate to cast into the seething spray

of nature’s random selection, vaulted over
by the high dome of the fisherman’s supreme
world―that he’s abandoned, alive and heaving
to nearest death, caught in Neptune’s ancient net.

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