Flashes of silver he brought
Like a magician on stage
From the calm grey Cornish seas,
A string of Mackerel caught
On a line with ridiculous ease.
They threshed as they fought
for air in the bottom of the boat
And were still wriggling for life
As we landed them ashore
In Boscastle harbour.
Twenty minutes later.
I gave away my share
To the couple in whose flat
We spent our holiday
In nearby Tintagel.
I couldn't face mackerel
For several years after.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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