Catch (Poetry)

The gasping catch was hauled towards the deck,
nets near to breaking, bellied, full of fish
who mouthed their outrage at the sullen sky,
eyes bulging as they writhed, the air’s effect
shocking them to spasm, jerk and swish
redundant tail fins, frantic not to die.

The straining nets were frayed, the mends were old,
the weight was more than rotting rope could take,
as strands unravelled, one by one, at last
releasing fish who squirmed through gaping holes
and leapt for freedom, followed through the break
by a strange creature, man-like, falling past.

Alone, the skipper glimpsed him diving down,
soon lost beneath the shoal that fell like rain,
as sea reclaimed them, swallowed every trace,
the nets now empty, scaly captives flown,
repatriated to the deep again,
including one with a near-human face.

The skipper’s trawled the same spot ever since,
invested in the finest fishing nets,
and turns deaf ears to ridicule, they say
he’s totally and utterly convinced
he caught a merman once... His mind is set,
obssessed by one half-fish who got away.