A Lullaby for the Drowned
Moon kisses blown by evening’s silver lips
caress the ocean's pricked up ears. They hear
a mute rage, frothy hackles raised to spear
a passing fleet of ghostly nightbound ships.
Dead dreams float up as daylight slowly slips
into the deep; again we face our fear
that dying might not be the last frontier.
A final move to hell requires many trips.
High above the deck, I spy over the bow,
watching for shoals and reefs that lurk below;
my crow's nest cradle teeters on the bough
the wind will break, though when I do not know.
Then we will plunge into the sea we plow,
lustful and wet. How can we sink so low?
Copyright © Henrique Oliveira | Year Posted 2018
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
to post a comment