First Time on a Commercial Fishing Boat

Out of West Port, minimum age 12 was I

Pop never gave anyone directions in

what to expect- he was an experiential teacher

Like he never offered Dramamine, but

said he’d forgotten to tell me- and that

it was unfortunate that I was feeding the fish!

It was a dubious voyage to say the least as the

boat bucked high and slammed down

like a hard belly flop on the other side

of the Bar

The wind picked up and even at 12 I could see

we were in for a growler

Then, I was body slammed into the rail and

my nose bloodied, my head went all spindrifty,

as the captain hauled me up in the net so

I wouldn’t be thrown about like a rag doll

in the storm

There wasn’t going to be much hooking and slicing

‘til things calmed down, so Pop started singing
some salty sea chanteys and to keep sanity, I’m sure

the other fishermen joined in

“Weigh hey and up she rises…” corked the occasion and

when I got off the boat smelling of puke with

a bloody shirt-Pop gave Mom a sheepish grin

Workshop poem at the FisherPoets Gathering

February 2014- Astoria, Oregon.

Word list: growler, bloody, slimy, corked, spindrift, slicing, net, sanity,

dubious, hook, bar

raintreepoet, reporting :-)