a man in a vest paces
in front of the old sardine factory
now gutted to sheer concrete
walls and adorned with rusty steel
girders, the abandoned shell
of a developers project
gone wrong

I think of all those small fish,
shiny bodies wreathing
in nets pulled aboard small boats
by men who then stood thigh deep
in scales, the boat's rim barely
floating above the gray sea

they cleaned them out
in shovels and those fine
arrowed bodies made their way
sliding beneath the cutting knives
of women in hairnets, all dead now

no doubt someone else
will buy the place, ripping it down
chopping it up into condos, leaving
sea views for anyone who can
afford the hundred thousand
or so it takes to stand in the place
where all those dark eyed fish
were canned

Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...