Hooked by Wayne Wight

Wayne Wight


Our captain swore the day that I was born
he saw their forms, sliding silhouetted
off the stern before the storm. That summer,

after the flooding, the strange
tides and the wave of freak
drownings, we moved away. I recall,

later, how I was caught, six
years old and wriggling, stranded
halfway up the glinting chain link. As always,

my birthday brings rain. The kelpy fronds
of cornstalks drift in the gloom as I twist
past, drenched again and stealing back

to the reservoir. From the black
basin of the wide mere
I hear the mermaids keening

for me. The water will
be cold I think, but I’m already
wet and cannot wait to drink.


Photograph © J.S. MacLean


Review by Luce

This is a sound sea tale told in a neat, easily digestible, three line format
with plenty of soft internal rhymes (born/forms/storm) and alliterations (sliding/silhouetted, glinting/chain link) to make it sing.

The speaker may be a young whale, dolphin or perhaps a manatee making its way back to the sea from warmer waters. Of course I can be totally off the mark but I don’t care. I love the sound of this and the image of something/someone trying to find its way back home again is compelling. Luce



Scroll to Top