Monday, September 15, 2008

shelter from the storm

Harbor Me

harbor me,
safe inside your shallows,
your familiar coast
[cheek to lips to chin to neck to breast to hips]
shelters all that remains of
lost to bull's eye squall and the tumult of
equatorial-parch-throat-cry for help,
a drowned flare retort to a muted foghorn,
a bleached beacon of a lighthouse storm warning
for a sea-unworthy vessel's captain,
incapacitated and hanging tenuously
to shark cartilage supplemented sanity,
frayed by the swallow of saltwater,
weakened by the blood let of scurvy,
crushed by the bend of fathoms
weighting the sun-stung scour of skin,
collapsing watertight compartments
holding the soaken wet dreams
of a thousand savage rock sirens lying in wait,
baiting a shipwrecked will with an ebb-tide of promises,
masking the suck and drag of a riptide
siphoning this soul farther then further out to sea
where there is no sunken treasure

harbor me,
seeking shelter from the storm

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