By Stephanie E. Morton
(1995)
The day crisp and clean,
With blue, swift, seas.
A breeze sways the hammock,
On the sailor's porch.
He looks out,
Onto the ever-blue sea.
A gray filtered sky
Spreads to a dark green.
Rotted twin,
Frayed from the cut
Of a sharp shell,
Drifts to shore.
The sailor limps
To the edging sea.
Widening his eyes,
Images appear transparent.
Dark blue clouds
Rumble toward his feet.
Ahoy, I see a body!
Mangled from the masses,
Of blue and green seaweed
Chocked by the sea's grass.
His stretched muscled
Yank the white, wrinkled,
Soggy body up to his shack.
Warmth turns this body
Pink.
Lips turn red from purple.
Sailor's duty done.
Clouds reverse,
Gray turns black
White sparkles pass.
The night is crisp and clean,
With blue, swift seas.
A breeze sways the hammock,
On the sailor's porch.