Our water-logged, world-weary
eyes become set on the horizon ahead.
Hold strong, hold fast
stay hard on that line!
Tacking and jibing, forward and aft
brings about an unsettling shiver.

Creaks of old timber,
complaining of the night’s long strain,
cruise along and break at the helm with a stormy spray.
Ropes pull, winds rustle,
the midnight hurtles on.

Black and blue,
overhead and underfoot,
drag her down to the depths
and lock her away from the world.

Stories set to sail
change with the tides.
The only indication of what was lost
floats onshore alongside the foam
in the form of bone-like beams,
and taken home as keepsakes.