Fishing from the disused bridge
under unseen stars and a V of ducks
pointing away from black storm clouds
our seven yr.-old hooks an eel
this big guy making an S of himself.
The older brothers knew to haul
hand over hand, not using the reel
because his rod bent into a U.
Hoons have crashed through barriers
blocking the bridge, its pylons rotten
below river level where eels lurk
in the belief their watery work
could never lure them to their death.
Some big guys are born to be warriors.

---

Ian C. Smith lives in Victoria, Australia with his wife and four sons. His poetry has appeared in Best Australian Poetry, and his latest book is Memory Like Hunger (Ginninderra Press).