AFT THE STORM
aft’ the storm’s the cure
the salt licks his face
though trenches’s formed
as foam settles down
will his Tessie rest
in his windward eyes
will she lay on his treasure chest
hearing the ebb and flow
as his vocal cords desist
from commanding mates
to feel the siren’s call,
to salve the absinthium,
absolve him with ecstasy
will she be there at all
or has the sail been torn
by the storm that rages within
will the Captain choose
to down the bitter sea water
drown in his rusty pipes
as Betsy sits on his shoulder
his eye rolled down the plank
he patched up the hole
Tessie’s tears are the seas
the salt assaults her
the Captain once hit Tessie
with a bottle…the ship
he’d never hurt the girl
who always waits on the shore
wait! wait!
he does come
he finds she’s a wild one
able to handle sea monsters
Tessie’s hand swats Betsy away
puts her in a cage
traps the man of her dreams
they both dream the same dream
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