We will go down to
the sea in a ship, my love and I,
and we shall listen to whale songs in the
night
and observe the treaty of dolphins and
doves.
We shall lie together on the blue calm of
the Pacific,
our legs entwined, our lips as moist as plums.
Together we shall man the mainsail, jib,
and spinnaker
white nylon rope singing through the winch
as we leverage the boom from starboard to
port
depending on where the winds of our
heaving spirits merge
to send us careening across the equator’s
neverending vow.
The bow will divide the waves
symmetrically
as when a woman yields to desire, warm and accepting
of a male plow making fertile the rich
land
while creating new waves of paroxysm and ever-cresting
joy.
We will pull down sails and ride gray
swells
when the tempest angles our sloop to the
sky,
clouds racing like zephyrs in obedience to
Olympian commands.
And when becalmed, we shall behold a
thousand midnight stars
while sitting in the stern, her arm a
slipknot around my waist.
How glorious to sail on an ocean seven
fathoms deep,
lost with the love of my love, soul of my
soul.
Such is my longing and such is my heart
when Eros touches the mariner’s art.
~William Hammett
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