Wednesday, August 17, 2011

In Ships

We sit here in ships
Anchored to the bottom of the ocean
Of lovers and friends
With tight grips around the heavy metal
Or iron or whatever it is
That anchors are made which make
Things difficult to pack up and go

On deck
We wait patiently
As the boat rocks gently back and forth
Like the way our bodies rock
Back and forth
Towards and away from each other

For some reason, we cannot move
Any longer
Not towards land and not farther
In this sea
I'm contemplating violently throwing things over
Maybe even you
Because it feels too heavy
This ship
These bodies
This metal (or is it iron?) anchor
These things on my mind

We sit here in ships
Held fast and tight
Unlike the way that you we have ever held
We sit here in ships
Chained to the lovers and friends
Content to let ourselves rock gently
Unlike the way our hearts rock

You are seated next to me
Compass in hand,
Map laid out on our laps
As if we ever had a way of finding our final destination.


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