Between night and day lies a slate sea
with only cheap whiskey
to ease the passage towards dawn.
Seven times we listed to starboard
until on the eighth I went over,
dashing my head amid the flotsam
of my ruined work.
Beached in the silver of the new day
I slept the sleep of kings,
dreaming of dark eyes and of no awakening.
Tonight we set sail again,
strapping ourselves to the mast.
For there be sirens.
Reblogged this on Another Way of Saying.
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We have to sail each night again. Indeed “across that bath of stars”. Cheers
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Cheers Laurie. “Follow the gleam” as T put it.
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