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The fish pokes at the coral where some small crustacean's stuck.
He's preoccupied, and unaware, he's just run out of luck..
For you have him squarely in your sights, and can't suppress a shout, .
As the spear strikes home; impaled on it, a good sized coral trout.
A violent struggle to go free, but the cruel barb holds him fast..
You picture him in butter, fried... for his struggles cannot last..
And far away, a great lateral line determines the struggle's source, .
And carcharodon carcharias swiftly changes course.
You stuff the nice trout in your float, you only need one more..
There might be something else worthwhile in that cave near the sandy floor..
You notice that you've drifted quite a long way from the bunch, .
and it looks like they're all headed in, it must be time for lunch.
The bottom shoals up rapidly, as he emerges from the deep..
And ahead, ..near the sun-dappled reef, an appointment he must keep..
For the great white death is hungry, and you've proffered him a meal, .
With struggling, bleeding fish nearby, you've fired up his zeal.
He's pictured as an evil thing; a killer without peer, .
And his armament's formidable... but there's no malice here...
He's just a hungry animal, but one that knows full well, .
You've turned up in his kitchen, and rung his dinner bell.
You poke among the coral heads, for a fish to complete your task, .
When a massive tug on the safety line, separates you from your mask..
You head up to the surface, and push the mask back on....
The float, the flag, the net, the fish... The whole damn lot is gone.
And there, two hundred feet away, through sea foam, vaguely seen, .
Are a dorsal, .. and a caudal fin, and a full ten feet between..
Sheer panic as you shout and flail, and maybe even pray, .
But there's little hope, for the diving boat, is a mile or more away.
And you're out of your element, an intruder in the foam..
But he's the undisputed lord, to him this world is home..
There's nothing here but water, and an omnipotent foe..
The sun shines brightly overhead, but you've nowhere to go.
He lifts his huge head from the sea, to gain a better view..
That big black eye looks lifeless, but you know it's watching you..
The mighty homo sapiens; the master of his fate..
And suddenly he's half a meal, on a hungry fish's plate.
To him, you're so much protein, ...just grist to run his mill..
You suddenly remember that you've never made a will..
He turns, ..you watch the fins converge, and line up fore and aft..
He dives, .. and now you realize, that fishing here was daft.
Unlike the hapless coral trout, that didn't have a clue..
Now you know, . absolutely, that there'll be no lunch, .. for you
Frank Halliwell
| Submitted Date |
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Tuesday, September 16, 2008 |
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Poets
