12-10-2024, 12:47 PM
The Red Fish.
When my father swore at cars
after his wife had died
that cut across him
in Seventies Wakefield
it was always pillock or pilchard
that reminded me of the fish my grandfather gave me
mixed up in re-used margarine tubs
daubed in malt vinegar
even now I can spend entire afternoons
thinking about the difference between sardines and pilchards
or herrings and rollmops
the way necessity gravitates
to a swerve of the road or the dart of a fin.
When my father swore at cars
after his wife had died
that cut across him
in Seventies Wakefield
it was always pillock or pilchard
that reminded me of the fish my grandfather gave me
mixed up in re-used margarine tubs
daubed in malt vinegar
even now I can spend entire afternoons
thinking about the difference between sardines and pilchards
or herrings and rollmops
the way necessity gravitates
to a swerve of the road or the dart of a fin.