Friday, May 26, 2023

Anchored in Port

The ambassador of my mind has brokered temporary peace.
Up and down, left and right, nature-nurture

will have to step away from the negotiation table.
Sinews and joints have stored winter’s gear

in accordance to the cold season’s lease.
I have polished the handrails and mended the sails

for voyages to be made when the sea invites me
with the gravity of tides from moons yet to rise.

The grass is cut and the palsied sprinkler is ready to rain.
Spring flowers are blooming in reckless array.

Silence holds sway as noon rolls quietly by
like a lollygag wheel with no theorem to try.

My skin is laid in repose on the couch,
arms crossed, a pharaoh who’s down for the count.

I fall into this well-tailored suit with no seams.
For the next hour, or maybe for two,

I will live inside myself and banish all dreams.
Let Ishmael go down to the sea in a ship

to measure his seasonal soul with adventurous tales.
The best way to level the playing field

or settle the score is to chase an afternoon nod, not whales.
Let there be only when, not why or how.
I’ll live in my skin and do nothing for now.

~William Hammett

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