Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Rope and Mast

Salt stinging spray, collecting on my face

A wind dried throat, burning with pain.

You grasp at my soul for your saving grace,

Mock my desperation with self disdain.

My lungs are weak like yours. They gasp for air.

My eyes, blinded by wind, squint for their sight.

While skin withers under the sun's false glare.

I can drown too in the sky's endless fight.

You chase your will-o-the-wisp, your siren.

You beg the fish-girls for a a place in their waves,

Careless that their kiss is as deadly as sin.

You flail and you rave, too afraid to save.

I will not drown whatever my life costs.

If you plunge to the depths it's you who's lost.

ps -- I hope the new background doesn't confuse you too much. I like a change of scenery every once in awhile

1 comment:

  1. Beautiful poem. You have such a beautiful way of putting words together. :-)