Momentum stopped
A slap of shock
My body rocked, and caught
In tightening twists of isolation

It bangs on the windows
and rattles down the stairs
It roils and it boils
and it always comes prepared

Word Shimmy sleeping-690429_1280
Sleep treads on stockinged feet
Half-conscious rhythms twist my head

Your hull is torn, your canvas in tatters,
You’ve bartered the last coin for biscuits and rum
The looking glass shows you a care worn expression
But sail out once more, the hard work’s not done.

Between us a sea
An ocean of figures
Of meanings and photos
To lap at our shore…