I look around and don't see anybody for years,
then one comes bobbing up out of the water,
I throw her a line attached to a round thing,
she grabs an arm around it and I haul her
in like a wet fished tired of the water.
I pull her over the side,
she's a big one,
probably ten stone, maybe twelve,
all mouth and gill puffing herself up
bigger than fish size.
She's in, landed, saved.
We get to land.
She comes around and starts talking confidently
about everything I can't stand.
She doesn't even know I'm here.
She's just a big cotton rag talking to a
she seems self satisfied now like it was
me she pulled out the water.
She climbs out the boat and onto the harbour.
The boat rises a bit.
'Put her with the others, I say,
throw plenty of ice on her'.
I steer the boat back out
and slice through the chilly water.
It's been years since I caught a live one.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.