Free From the Killick
I'm not a seafarer, but took a risk and dove right in,
as if from cliff height and wound up floundering
in the dark abysmal depths of a roiling ocean.
From pages of 'The Rime of the Ancient Mariner,'
I wore the feathered omen draped around my shoulders.
When a marriage ends, the mast is cracked, mainsail tattered.
The bottle was his failing; but the burden was mine.
His raging storm was a whirlpool of self-loathing.
Certain to drown if I lingered with him much longer,
I was in need of a way out of my wretched life.
Frowns were etched into my brow from doleful despair,
as we sailed beneath stormy skies on a battered ship.
My cries were much louder than the roar of the ocean,
but he didn't seem to care whether he lived or died.
I desperately fought to keep him tethered to my side
but he was the killick that kept dragging me down.
I couldn't save us both, broke free from the chain,
and watched Coleridge's boa floating in the flotsam.
I stood on the beach, searching each crested wave
but when the tide ebbed, I walked away.
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