The Sporting Life

a poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

I don’t really like fish,
when angling for trout in the river,
near our lodge,
it’s the peaceful scenery
and the colours of a rainbow trout just caught that I like.
Mind colours fade fast
when it’s wriggling on the rivers bank
fighting for life.

If alone,
I unhook the poor thing
and throw it back into its true element.
If not, I break the trout’s neck,
say something masculine
and try not to throw up.
My wife like fish,
she waits for me to come home with a frying pan in her hand.

I eat little (not hungry tonight dear)
thinking of the snap
when I broke their necks.
I do like fishfingers though,
five of them on a plate doesn’t conjure a picture of distress.