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Monday 3 March 2014

The Mussel Farm



The mussel farm was usual enough; 
it had buoys tied together with seaweed-covered ropes 
and fishing boats in the distance.
My brother, Uncle, Mum and I did what fishermen do - 
flung our lines in and waited for a kahawai or a snapper, 
winding up and getting the occasional

phantom, pulling up a shark and a starfish that 
clung onto my hook.
Doing nothing important.

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