SurVision Magazine / Susan Richardson

Song

Play me a demersal, non-commercial
song about cod.

Not the punk nursery rhyme –
Captain Birdseye sticking up
                            two frozen fingers
at the North Atlantic wars,
his mohawk spiked
with globs of parsley sauce.

And not the trance anthem
from the Grand Banks –
fishermen remixed
        into makers of bakeapple jam
and folk artists,
permitted to catch
only shoals of trippers and tourists.

Play me, instead,
a song that's barely heard –
so rare I must work, long-term,
to learn its three-part harmony
of fin displays and males inverting
                 themselves
beneath their mates,
each pair riffing
                 in rhapsodic circles.

Eunicella verrucosa

Your pink sea fantasy
should not include Neptune modelling thongweed,
or a school of mermaids spanking
zooplankton from their hair.
It should contain no selkie stripteasing her skin
or an octopus in fishnets (four pairs).

The seventh wave ought not misbehave
in your pink sea fantasy
or make of it an epic disaster flick,
the risen tide overswum
by giant, horny Gorgonians.

Instead, let cleaner wrasse arrive
to eat the lice from your pink sea fantasy
(heedless divers, dropped
               anchors,
the greed for souvenirs)

till you hear the moral in its branches –
how the catch got its by,
how the scallop found its dredge –
pursed, like catshark eggs,
in the soft of its coralling.

Susan Richardson is from Wales. Her third collection of poetry, skindancing, was published by Cinnamon Press in 2015. She is currently poet-in-residence with both the Marine Conservation Society and the global animal welfare initiative, World Animal Day. Her fourth collection, themed around endangered marine species, will be published in 2018.

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An international online magazine that publishes Surrealist poetry in English. Issue One SUSAN RICHARDSON Song Play me a demersal, non-commercial song about cod. Not the punk nursery rhyme – Captain Birdseye sticking up two frozen fingers at the North Atlantic wars, his mohawk spiked with globs of parsley sauce. And not the trance anthem from the Grand Banks – fishermen remixed into makers of bakeapple jam and folk artists, permitted to catch only shoals of trippers and tourists. Play me, instead, a song that's barely heard – so rare I must work, long-term, to learn its three-part harmony of fin displays and males inverting themselves beneath their mates, each pair riffing in rhapsodic circles. Eunicella verrucosa Your pink sea fantasy should not include Neptune modelling thongweed, or a school of mermaids spanking zooplankton from their hair. It should contain no selkie stripteasing her skin or an octopus in fishnets (four pairs). The seventh wave ought not misbehave in your pink sea fantasy or make of it an epic disaster flick, the risen tide overswum by giant, horny Gorgonians. Instead, let cleaner wrasse arrive to eat the lice from your pink sea fantasy (heedless divers, dropped anchors, the greed for souvenirs) till you hear the moral in its branches – how the catch got its by, how the scallop found its dredge – pursed, like catshark eggs, in the soft of its coralling. Susan Richardson is from Wales. Her third collection of poetry, skindancing, was published by Cinnamon Press in 2015. She is currently poet-in-residence with both the Marine Conservation Society and the global animal welfare initiative, World Animal Day. Her fourth collection, themed around endangered marine species, will be published in 2018.
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