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Cross me palm
with silver
Sailor lost at land
That was he
A big man
of small stature
He walked
steadying himself
As he once did on the high
seas
Forward facing
Confident stare
Steady as she goes…
A bench replaced his hammock
A bench upon the green sea
Stormy grey
wild hair
Face swelled
and
worn
Oars for hands
Nails
splintered
chipped
Over coat blue
and
black
Covering
deep
deep
blue jeans
Turned
a
good old turn
At worn
beach brown
Slip on
shoes
Tell me old man
proud sailor
What’s at
the world’s end
Are there
fiddler’s there
Playing
a reel
On a wondrous green
At the world’s end…
what is there
Tell me… old man
Before
you go
to sleep
Why here…
Bad enough
you
chose land
Why not
the desert disc
A squeeze
of the old box
You have a secret…
I won’t tell
… steady as she goes…
he said
…Steady...
as she goes.....
James Watson
© 2001
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