This is...
Long Jolly Crossbones
Breaking light over flowing on your high seas.
Playful shines upon them quick silver.
And you told me this was treasure.
Under colours hoisted into vaulted skies.
We hanged our enemies to the yardarm.
And you told me this was freedom.
A crow's nest sighting of the world's edge.
The old charts declared: "bad omen!"
And you told me this was living.
So you set course by canon grey clouds.
And sashay between opium puffs.
And you told me this was the true compass.
And I sailed on your high seas!
Felt your body writhe in swelling waves.
And I sailed on your high seas!
You held me with a thousand fathoms.
And you told me this is ritual.
We floated on backs out in the vast and formless maths.
In the iron caldron, huge shadows in torus stirred the depths.
In celestial constellations we saw the sublime.
In Northern Lights saw their minds spill out.
And it was then we made up our minds nothing was Divine.
And I wished upon every shooting star I saw
I'd never feel earth beneath me anymore.
The bite was a natural good. The calluses came
From holding tight.
The sea sickness was plenty. But the sickness thrilled me.
But all voyages discover shores eventually.
Even when sailing in your high seas.
I said, we are organisms in an organism world
Everything just a conceptual design
Of yours and mine.
We go where the wild wind picks up sails we unfurled.
You told me:
"You wish an undertow will carry you far
Where the only lines left are the straight horizon
And sparkling tail of a shooting star.
To hold faster yet in a sweeping perfect maelstrom. It breaks
Down, the din, upon you and you push back with all your might.
Like beauty, it will pass by.
Know this:
The most enduring ships are wrecks.
Throw the jetsam, throw the flotsam.
Let them
wash up on someone's heart.
The ocean can be mistress or lover,
Distress or comforter.
It can reflect or refract.
Tentacles sometimes pull wishbones apart.
Spirits sometimes run aground on humanity.
Shipmates sometimes shift into mutiny.
Springboards sometimes are just short planks for longing.
A bow clipping through water can be clipped wings
in fallen tears from a crying shame.
Winds on the tundra can sound like confessional howls,
or the sound of prayer.
And, again, I see you walking on water,
Only the first time I didn't see your ankles wet.
And sea green meadows are green from algae,
Choke-hold with weeds and overgrown ivy.
Nothing matters: Not any ship,
Not the opera singing siren. Not the
the jagged reef."
And you told me
You knew the melting point of portraits.
And you told me
The length of chain doesn't make it easier to break.
And you told me
This sea chest is full of pulled out gold teeth.
You marooned me.
Left me an X on your map.
What a cruel thing.
Left me lost though left me exactly where I am.
Cast adrift on an island of tidal sands.
And I've named each grain you.
And I look out
At your high seas.
Rolling in an out like your breath.
