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A ship's cook 

The sea is dark, clunky, and calm today
 slowly undulate 
turns white where the ship's bow has plowed a furrow
that stretches for miles.
Gulls still follow us, shrieking and waiting for the cook to
throw overboard waste food, tomorrow gone back to the coast waiting, for another ship
I fiddle with the radio in the galley, find a good station  
it saddens me also as it was  it was my brother's favorite song  
We left Antwerp 24 hundred hours ago,
 it had been
hectic, long night, blaring music, whores and beer
In the drunken haze, a nucleus of sobriety reminded 
a longing for something  better, knowing this was
a temporary and shallow
as for now, I have a long day ahead of me, food to cook
bread to make and the cleaning of pots and pans
that is why cooks are temperamental 
I feel safe in my little domain, a place the captain fear
to enters. Yes, I'm sailing across the sea, and it is good
to be alive on a day like this

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