Tomorrow a Foreboding
Tomorrow a foreboding — where a shovel and daisy thrive.
Prepare yourself with the wind of the sea and coconut-salt.
Stand upon the dock where the ribboned sky cuts the dark,
and call to your sailor who heartily drinks your honeysuckle ink.
Seal words of love in a bottle, one last shot of absinthe.
Tie with the bow from your crimson hair and kiss with your tears.
Tomorrow’s ship drowns a slow death.
The seaweed a trap that steals his kind-breath.
A sailor shall hit the rocks, the sandbar of hard knocks.
Tomorrow will be too late to land upon your pallor-lips.
He sleeps with sirens - their nightmare shrieks deafen his ears,
for he cannot stand to hear the pounding of each scrape of dirt
upon your wooden bed with silken sheets and coins for eyes.
Tomorrow’s ship drowns a slow death.
The seaweed a trap that steals his kind-breath.
11/6/2018
Sponsor - Edward Ibeh
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