by Thomas Smith

Ode to a Halibut


Oh Halibut, Halibut,
Stalwart of fish.
How is it some see you 
As only a dish?

You are a friend,
Have been for some time,
Served with saffron rice
And a small slice of lime.

I once knew your father,
A jolly good fin.
We had to chase him 
To get him reeled in.

Once he was on board,
We put him on ice.
We wanted him perfect,
No less would suffice.

We thought of a lemon
And olive oil marinade
But this great fish of white fish
Deserved better made.

Garlic and parsley 
In a little white wine. 
Pan-sautéed just so,
And then we dined.

Oops, that was your father,
I just heard you say.
We were not thinking
When we cooked him that way.

We intended to have him 
For dinner that night.
We meant as a guest,
Not the dinner’s highlight.

So Halibut, Halibut,
Now tell me true.
How can I begin to
Make it up to you?

Oh, Halibut, oh, how about
We find a place
For you and your missus,
With plenty of space.

Maybe a fish farm,
A place you can rear
Lots of your small fry
And keep them quite near.

There is just one downside.
Occasionally
There will be a wee bit of
A homeowners’ fee.

They take credit or cash.
I’m afraid you have neither.
The scales on your back
You cannot give them either.

A son or a daughter will
Settle your score.
In any event,
You can always make more.

Your decision is that
You will swim out to sea?
And take your chances
Whatever they be?

Oh Halibut, Halibut,
If you change your mind,
I’ll look around and
I’m sure we can find

Something that’s made for you,
Just heavenly.
A splendidly marvelous
New recipe.

Thomas Smith has written poetry since high school for a number of reasons, including encouraging his wife to marry him. His book in verse The Search for King: A Fable was published in 2022. He has published haiku and limericks in Fireflies’ Light, Frog Pond, cattails, and Blythe Spirit. He lives in Austin, Texas with his family.