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