April 12th

I have been lucky enough to have spent two days in writing workshops, one for short story and the other poetry, Luckily one of the pieces I wrote yesterday (with Helen Mort – wonderful poet, check her out) can be considered to fit the brief set. These are things I wouldn’t have/didn’t say to my father. Still having to revisit day 4 eventually and a couple more days to catch up on – I will so do this!

Photo of my dad, with fishing trophy

Dad, you taught me to fish,
to chase rag and lug through the sand’s suck,
warm my hands in freezing pools
and tease blennies from their low-tide lairs.
I learned to fillet gar,
the lustre of the emerald bones
fighting the brightness of the mackerel’s blaze.
I knew the time to shrimp,
where to find peeler crab,
that live pout tempt bass
and a mullet’s lips cannot hold it’s weight.
These things and more
I learned from you,
but your fisherman’s tales stopped just short
of measuring your love.


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