Red Fish

[ton321]

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


This first stanza introduces and is the head and mastering unit of a poem *like this*.


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 middle stanzas are literal and work 100% for a poetry that is working in that/this direction.

The last two lines are good either way.




the way necessity gravitates
to a swerve of the road or the dart of a fin.

---

Thanks Bryn, Rowan

It was a bit of a strange poem and I wasn't sure about it but thanks for the responses

Tony