Ae2024

Poems from a Sky Boat

The Clouds part

My vessel's hull wrapped in day's darkest start,
Its hushed cradle peels off at stars' fringe,
Sails awake, engines ignite, dewed breezes dart,
A sun rises— and the tall expanse singe;
For the first time today, the clouds below part.

Haikus from Today

The skyfish struggle
Fated for the lunch stew pot
Their fear haunts my guilt

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Fuel sustains the ship
It guzzles voraciously
It'll leave some for me?

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Why am I up here
Were the oceans too murky
Are the grounds too known

I, who will never replace them

Frayed ropes writhe on the deck like
snakes cosying and readying to shed,
each unknotted and knotted, loose and moored,
their last fibre and strand long put to use
by I, who will never replace them.

Patchwork laden, well-worn sails,
each one strung as a limp, flayed prisoner,
daily stretched and warped by every-bound winds,
their loyalty rewarded with more work
by I, who will never replace them.

To sate the engine below,
per the terms of its faustian bargain,
its wizened age growing ever clearer
as rising growls warn of the coming end
to I, who will never replace it.