The Fish Family
Noel King
Were the fish as bored as I?
What did they do
other than swim ‘round’?
I stood in squelching too-big-wellies,
my small rod pointing the water,
a smile pushing my face,
hating this crap,
wanting to run around
like I usually did,
like the girls, my younger brother.
But I was big, the eldest,
must keep up the show,
two generations of fisher-people
standing proud over me on this bank.
They knew it wasn’t for me
when I didn’t excite
at my small trout
I kept my mouth shut,
like about Santa Claus,
not fooled. The fish was placed
at the end of my rod
when I wasn’t looking.