Friday, February 11, 2022

And All the Ships at Sea

Ships groan. Moan. Even shimmering
yachts know, deep in their blueprints,
they shouldn't be at sea. Commerce
and war disagree. The sea is ours!

they cry--like drunken sailors
on shore leave or rabid dictators
with shrinking brains. Ships

at permanent anchor--mothballed:
uncommanded, they slightly sway,
serene in their bay. At night, 

ghosts howl in bones of the hulls,
conjuring nightmares of reefs,
hurricanes, missiles, and mad captains. 


hans ostrom 2022

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