Mackerel

line no sooner down than taut

shadow silvering into air
desperate fruit all wriggle

and twitch snapped off
slapped in a plastic crate

fading to layers of leaves
knives out guts chucked

to an instant coven of gulls
heads scarfed whole

sea a boil of snatch and scream
fillets home in a bucket

fried in their own oil
all night my head full

of saltwater skin sun
flesh feather beak bone

so little between us