The Kraken and the Sailor

A single groan, then a wretch from the sofa

Where that undead slob is rising at last;

How did we get to this end? I wonder,

As I pour him his morning glass.

 

So I break his whisky on the rocks

With the wails of a Siren sweet:

“Wake up!” she screams to vacant docks,

For she seeks the man incomplete

 

And alone – and filled with cracks,

Caverns and gaps that tear at the seam

And beg him to disinfect the tracks

Left by the sailor at seventeen.

 

But with a pitiful sigh and a jingle

Of keys, she slips back into the sea

And leaves her bilgerat to circling gulls,

She slams the door I’ve taken my leave.

 

For I’d rather waste away in empty caves

Than slip on this gaff of poison pretence,

And he was soon borne away by the waves

And lost in darkness and distance.

 

Zoë Wells


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