Family Business
Gulls'eyes watch as the brothers prepare to ship their last order.
Heads, spines and guts for offal, they slit, slit and slit the flesh and slice.
Now the last fillets of fish are weighed and packed in ice
They rest, silent in memories trawled like cod from cold water.
All done. They swill down their stand at the end of the day,
Eyes smarting through the smoke from one last cigarette,
While, like vague questions meandering into the sunset,
The Fleetwood trawlers sail out beyond the Bay.
An end, at last, to the struggle of their ailing enterprise,
To the scale-spattered clogs, oil-skin overalls, fish-stench, frozen sweat.
They flick their dog-ends into the dock, the last release of a protracted demise,
Then turn away.
They will not return, but yet,
Gulls hungry, impatient with scavengers' cries
Wait on in the wind with cold, ravenous eyes.
rate
email
print
link to this page
Comments: 36
Wait on in the wind with cold, ravenous eyes.
very good
You have captured how they feel.
To my ear you might drop the "and" before the last "slit" in L2.
But the whole thing is like a classic b&w photo.
I especially liked the last two lines.
Thanks.
Captures the day in smellovision
Eyes stinging beer drinking
Dog stinking salty incision
Awakens my senses
Very well done
I can always feel such emotion with your writing. Sorry I'm so late coming here, but I haven't been online in quite awhile, much less on gather - family business of a different sort.
Marilyn