Night Fishing (Poetry)

The dawn light angled in through slatted blinds
picking out the colours in his scales
he still slept deeply — breath like bubbles rose
wet sand amongst the sheets left gritty trails . . .

She lay unmoving trying to recall
exactly what had happened in the dark.
The party had been wild, but even so
how strange to wake beside a six-foot shark.

She wondered if she dared to slip away —
to save embarrassment and awkward chat.
Her head was pounding and her mouth felt dry
she wished she knew the layout of the flat . . .

He stirred a little, flexed a lanky fin
and opened one small black and shiny eye
then yawning, showed two double rows of teeth.
She found her voice and, flinching, managed ‘Hi!’

‘I’m sorry, babe — ’fraid time and tide won’t wait.’
He rolled from bed and wriggled for the door.
‘I’ll call you . . .’ as he slithered down the stairs
damp seaweed strewn across the puddled floor.

She dressed with haste and took a taxi home.
Sober, mercifully without a scratch.
She claimed she was the one who got away
though others thought he was the better catch.