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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.