Feeding the fish

Ah! A poem from long ago days – I found it today in an battered old folder while I was looking for something else. I like those unexpected discoveries. I thought this photo of a recent (sold!) painting would go nicely.

Painting of a whale by trudi Murray

Detail from ‘Never ignore the song of a whale’ – Sold

Feeding the fish

at the tropical house
and they are
big as buses
ponderous and stupid
so many
awful vacuums
hoovering up
and slowly
what we throw in
from the pot.
I have no desire
to buy a second lot.
It stinks.
Plus, the look
that catfish
is giving me
makes me uneasy,
and there are
and poisonous frogs
and tortoises,
which I sound out
like testing a a loaf.
They are perfectly done.
Later on
the keepers
a snake
round your neck,
while I hold the baby
and wonder at you.
At nearly 3
you are
brave and exotic,
joining in,
daring and fearless.

You fall asleep in the car on the way home.

After lunch
and while you nap
your Daddy and I
make love
in the pantry.
It is dark
in there
and the black-eye beans
floating in brine
start to haunt me.
I giggle too much
to be useful.

All afternoon
we play
feeding the fish
with a cardboard box and some corks.
And we roll the baby
around the living room rug
our own giant millipede
all his legs
in the air
ticklish & tickling.

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