Fishing
In the North Sea the
bodies are hauled in
hanged among the hysterical sea
life gasping, flashing
silver, gaggling & puckering
lips puck*pick*pup*pop –
& it is bloody
cold.
See where a small, pink crab has made its home
between the cheek and molar
but scuttles into the adjacent cavity
full of coral matter in the sight
of a flashlight.
Our quotas don’t give leave
to bring them in to shore.
They are thrown back
with the turbot and the wrasse.
They are happier among the loving
fronds of channeled wrack and salt weeds
than if we lugged them
back in, to the bawling garbage-stink
where they would burn
in red brick crematoriums
leaving only the smell of codfish
& flakes of ash
shaped like goldfish feed.
Jak Payne is a from Peckham in South London. He graduated from the Goldsmiths’ Creative Writing BA in 2012. He is currently finishing his Master’s degree in Modern Literature.