The wind abandoned the sails;
fled west with a sullen sun.
A sun that daily returned
to haunt the shadows
of slack canvass
draped like dead flesh.
Eight bells, first watch, sixteenth night:
It centred the light pool
a tall spindle of a boat
poking through the surface.
Single poled, half naked
adrift on a wet new moon
Its pleated skirts, windless
hung upon the fir mast.
Ropes coiled like serpents
ready to bite a prevailing easterly
should the canvass bloom,
lay in wait on the lifeless deck.
fled west with a sullen sun.
A sun that daily returned
to haunt the shadows
of slack canvass
draped like dead flesh.
Eight bells, first watch, sixteenth night:
It centred the light pool
a tall spindle of a boat
poking through the surface.
Single poled, half naked
adrift on a wet new moon
Its pleated skirts, windless
hung upon the fir mast.
Ropes coiled like serpents
ready to bite a prevailing easterly
should the canvass bloom,
lay in wait on the lifeless deck.