Tuesday, July 14, 2015


sometimes ties cost the race
it is not unheard of -
the boat on the harbour
bobbing there on the black moonlit tide
is left to float unguarded
with little warning
and there it is.

lapping the waves
a little light disappearing
back again then lost
and that is your heart out there

in the palm of the ocean
contact is forgotten
and we have to wait

my grandfather
on a corvette in the war
had to destroy everything
my grandmother sent

the torn correspondence
floating in a chain
in the wake of the ship
- just following regulations
the uncaring folly
of duty
 swallows lives whole

pacing the beach
kicking rocks in the sand

waiting for some news
I whistle a nautical tune