Another Sunday,

I'm extemporizing here, because I have nothing on hand ready. This is an idea that has kept coming back at me on and off for about seven years now, this will probably not be the last time I attack it.

Here goes then...

Fish

Would you take to the water with a wizened old man
rowing in a leaky scow
To the spot where beacon's in line with the cleft
of the hill you can see from the prow?

Would you wrinkle your nose at the sweet rotten smell
of the blood-slimy bait that he cuts,
And prick your fingers as they slip on the hook
as you try to make the bait stay put?

Would you swallow as the waves of a passing barge
lift your stomach to your throat as they rock
while you wait with your finger on a just tight line
for the kahawai to strike with a shock?

Will you thrill to the nibble on the just tight cord;
to the snapper's tugging morse code bites?
Will you smooth down his spines as you grab him from the line
and grip him as he wriggles and he fights?

Do you have it within you to take his life
with a blow from a rowlock or a truncheon
and carry him home in a sea-wet sack
to set him on the table for your luncheon?

Or,

Do you just find it much more expedient
to look on the supermarket rack;
much cleaner, and nice and convenient
to buy your fish crumbed in a pack?


If you need a clue it was inspired by (but the thought is not exclusive to) the difference between mainstream commercial recorded, and live local music

Happy Christmas
The Gedle