Steady, as the afterdeck is shifting
Beneath his boots, a fisherman is lifting
The tuna’s sickle tail
While, hanging from the rail
Above, the cable-line grows taut;
Now twice the ponderous fish is caught.
Hoisted above the gathered crowd that presses,
Its shadow falls on billowing sundresses
With children under sail,
And gulls screech overhead.
Not everyone’s convinced the fish is dead.

Dwarfed by his catch, the captain’s standing proudly
To one side. Choirs of tight-leashed shih tzus loudly
Acclaim his mighty deed.
So many mouths to feed!
Fashioned out of onionskin,
The origami dorsal fin
Already is a picnic spread for midges.
How creaturely is food outside of fridges;
Breathless, it still can bleed
And may be photographed
By lovers leaning from their pleasure craft.

Even aboard the emerald yacht from Britain,
The News, this headline not yet even written
Has its readers hooked;
They leave the berths they’ve booked
To ask “Who? What? Where? When?” and “Why?”
Potbellied clouds ascend the sky
And pause there, peering over someone’s shoulder.
Ripplets slap their notes into a folder.
To see where the others looked,
Each tries a different tack;
A girl in shorts climbs on her boyfriend’s back.

Undaunted at the fringe of this commotion,
The terns swoop down and plunge into the ocean,
Rise up and wheel again,
More purposeful than men
Who’ve planned for months to live at ease
Two weeks in seaside properties,
Only to find the constant leisure taxing;
To join the crew at work might be relaxing.
A boy who’s maybe ten
Cuts through the crowd and thrills
To catch a glimpse inside the gaping gills.

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