One That Got Away
I learned to fish with fellows
by James Mills
who impressed themselves with lies.
Their tongues plumbed deeper
than the green reaches.
'Snatch, snatch, ' they advised, sucking roll-ups.
I snatched, and failed to snag a loose lipped shape.
'You missed a feckin' monster.
You'll never be a fisherman.'
I learned not to fish
and never was a fisherman.
Damp disillusion wicked and crept through
They smoked on, cast on, criticised and thought
they'd had a good day.
We slung and slung our hopes against the current,
Fat moon on black water glinted snide white.