The stranded angler 


Lake Illawarra, 7 September 2018

the long flat – gone to white
ring of hills process through blue, grey, black —
bright enough for one small life.

tidal through the narrows
oh come all you fishies, beat on my lure
– flat head, bull shark, black fish.

far from kiosk, boat ramp
fat blokes crowd families into tinnies
sputting props chew oyster trash.

mythos calls – astride the pillars of Hercules –
one-eyed I hurl boulders at thieving Jason
and all the Argo’s yes-men.

day’s done dark coming on
(so soon) lights bend and flex, columns
converge to a single bright

kids on the bikepath, (so close)
tutelary lake spirit – what’d I say? –
don’t backchat your mum, cigarette’s a waste of money.

a step on the tide and I’d walk right out,
empty the lake, I’d be whistling down
mud flats, shopping carts, weed beds, car parts.

but hapless / faithless I stand
quietly drowning – feet, knees, waist,
my arms tremble your embrace.

the phone in my hand, a low glow on the infra-red
across the water comes the rollicking crew.

Image:  Not actually Lake Illawarra, but you get the idea. A work in progress based on a true story. And for fun, here’s Lake Street Drive with a cover of A-ha’s wonderful nonsense – Take on Me

2 thoughts on “The stranded angler 

  1. Enjoyed the mystical fishing at sunset, Peter, from mighty Cyclops to the tsunami precursor. It’s been a long time since I’ve stood on a summer evening beach pretending to fish, and felt the warm air around my legs pushed out of the sand by the waves lapping up. You reminded me.

    Liked by 1 person

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