My brother and I
Crammed in Dads fourteen footer
Sleeping knawl tight on high seas
The smell of brine, kelp and blood
Coiled up in dreams of mum
But when the ropes went down
We would wait and fish
Dad on the prow feeding out line
Us waiting baited on where
To drop anchor and put in
To drop anchor and put in
His determinations elusive
Mythical, based on an extra sense
That men have about these things
Making them either slaves
Or fathers or kings
A tug from below and pull
Flathead skipping across the hull
Him stabbing at the base of the skull
That's how you kill a fish
That's how you raise a child
Turning the boat back toward land
Mythical, based on an extra sense
That men have about these things
Making them either slaves
Or fathers or kings
A tug from below and pull
Flathead skipping across the hull
Him stabbing at the base of the skull
That's how you kill a fish
That's how you raise a child
Turning the boat back toward land
He would bring the catch
Back to his wife
Back to his wife
One girl, one boy, six flathead
To be scaled and gutted and fried
Eaten with potato salad and lemon
While the sun sank
Just below the shoreline
To be scaled and gutted and fried
Eaten with potato salad and lemon
While the sun sank
Just below the shoreline
© shaun patrick green 2013
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