S T E A M S A H E A D L E S S L I N I N G
The sudden, silent keel steams on ahead by your own hand, the water parting ways like friends estranged; foam breaking into sand. Ahead: the skyline, silver. Above, the broken-arrowed new days’ birds, necks outstretched to meet their plight, your fate; our wounds unmade again in this young light. Those slender necks, that meeting place of sex and death, keep rising nonetheless, bound upwards by the beating of the wings and yes, of your strange heart, and mine.