Boats at rest amid old sea gods who sleep.
I have walked among them down the jetties
watching how their chains vanish in the deep,
how each holds the hint of possibilities;
call that escape. The sky salmons dark pink.
How does one wake a god in this twilight?
Tonight I’ll stand and stare. I’ll sit and drink
until I’m drunk for the waves and moonlight
and the boat that I will never find. I knock
my glass to the floor; get told to go home.
There is no home; just standing in shadows
watching dark consume water, jetty, dock.
I can read the wind, the tide, the sea foam
and they all say: sorrows, sorrows, sorrows.