Gone Fishing

The boat sways with the water,

fisherman sways against the wind,

wipes sweat away from brow,

pulls another net in.

The fish gasp in oxygen –

thrash in agony –

fisherman sighs against the rising sun.

This heat is unbearable.

This oxygen is unbearable.


Market day – stalls filled with dead fish –

eyes wide open, mouths wide open –

as if taking in the last breath of toxic air

in a desperate attempt to survive.

The smell of fish is overpowering –

people pour in from all corners – eyes alert.

Fisherman watches on,

wipes sweat away from brows –

this heat is unbearable.

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