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Cormorant Fishing


Only a cormorant
can love a bird like me,
goofy looking,

with black plumage,
and a bill with a hooked
tip.

Any fish I grab I slip
deftly into my pocket,
my pouch.

If I don't sail back
with my catch, my boss
drags me back

by my roped ankle.
A noose loosely tied
around my neck

guarantees I won't swallow
his profits.
After he plucks a big fish

from my throat,
he offers me my wages
--encouragement

or maybe the slimmest
of fishes.
Then I'm underwater again,

chasing my prey, forgetting
who I work for,
the adrenaline of the chase

fueling a joy
soon stolen from me.
Over and over I dive,

culling a prize, rising
to the surface, its scales
shimmering like coins.

For a moment life is good--
but not as good as when I doze
on a piling...

sadly, the days ahead
lined up like fish drying
on racks.

I wasn't familiar with comarants so had to look them up.
Fascinating. Good metaphor on corporate life, or life in general, how we have so much less power than we believe. This makes me a little angry. It's a good poem

Thanks, Ken