Wednesday, 27 November 2013

A mariner’s love

  Ploughed flesh, forearms
  the runners of a steam ship.
  Cock, blunt rudder replaced endlessly.
  Heart matches the heat;
  sand warmed through the years -
  the grains trickle
  into need;
  coals feed
  the furnace -
  each a coil of mortality.
  Beneath hard twists and turns
  sand moves, tiny scales of serpent flesh,  
  unshaken, untouched by imprints, hold form  
  until weakest wind  
  or smallest ripple
  The shore recedes; sea-green  
  hermit crabs sink  
  into depths beneath words.
  As I leave rolling sea
  it is all I can do not to turn and see  
  who enters behind me.  

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