Wednesday, December 16, 2009

before the long walk

tide right.

3 sailors per.

hoist sails.

the one in red,
checked calloused hands.
his hands told him so.

the one in irish wool nodded.
he'd noticed the one in red.

the one in green.
the son of the one in red
poised on the bow.

the first run.
his hands,
proof enough.

floating steady in the
flemish harbor.

the one in white,
stood on cobbles.
grasping braids of
dark rich brown.

skin opalescent,
rose touched,
tearlessly fearful,
turned away.

before the long walk
over cobbles,
retrieved a single
roll of bread,
some butter.

homeward bound
as rain
began to fall.

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