I Am A Fisherman

I am a fisherman.
Salt is my sugar, salt is my malt

I fear men who sleep, and wake aloof
Beneath the moon I lie,
Open-eyed.
‘waiting the summer tide
Whose snug wave I pray
Mackerel my chills away

I am a fisherman.
Knees wet, yet ankles dry
Wings of lace that pry too high,
Why?
Upon the white gulls I parlay,
The Lord’s herring me pray

 

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