September 21, 2011

memories

Boathouse to sea
Of corrugated tin
Sheltered winter's hell
Black waters roll
Blocking out light
The white caps
Bowing with grace
Curl through the door
My throat
Filling my skin
In a locked rectangle
This maze of bars
Rusted and set
Braiding with arms
Like reeds
Reaching for air
My fingers hit steel
Leaving them stained
Oxygen red
Wheeled legs
Roll with the surge
Mermaid weave
Through glassless panes
Unmissed pains
Silent breathless scream
Through bluing lips
Ocean roars back
With salted baptism
The oncoming tide
Steals everything
But memories

5 comments:

Paul Sands said...

I can feel the cold

Fresh Garden said...

Touched my heart!

Marinela said...

Beautifully done!

Aimée Lévesque said...

It reminded me of Japan cold soaking through skins. Like on the boat in Miyamoto Musashi.

juca2 said...

Your verse swells with depth and power...wonderful write as always. // Peter.