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Old Salt
January 22, 2014
We set ships afloat in claw foot bathtub harbors
Armed with soap dish cannons
Anchored beneath the mast of your back
Careening in the spate of your waves
We drift ashore the coves of your bare bottle cap bones
And capsize at low tide, your naked skin athirst
O’ Captain, sail close to the wind
© Betty L., Fremont, CA
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