Steady the float

Here rest my oars. A killick thrown to the school of fishes, To still my boat from the peering waves. Fishy-wishy scatter as water splatters, Like wood chips flying when the pickaxe strikes. A ship draws near, but my killick blocks its kiss— Its stale mouth might stagger my rest, And send my gathered fish fleeing the net. Much of the mud my killick swallows, So the wave won’t tug the boat an inch. More students from the school must reach my net. A long wait beneath the twilight-dimming sky. Yet the fish market waits for a refill. The cool breeze begs my eyes to close, But hunger bites hard with its mocking teeth— My killick just has to steady the float.