Just as he wears his home
written on his skin, a tsunami
of proud pain washing
over shoulders across chest
and belly I want traces of him
forever inked into me
so no matter what I give away
or what they take
I will not forget.
When he’s done a boat
floats on my wrist.
In a week it will no longer
be strange.
When I wake at night he sings me asleep
his burred voice a lullaby tide -
I float home, a small boat on word-waves
I can’t interpret. Will we have time
enough to grow into each other
so that when I dream
us shipwrecked, he dreams the rescue?
Welcome back to my Tuesday Poem - this is the latest from my work-in-progress, a fantasy verse novel. Do check out the Tuesday Poem blog which, this week, features the work of another Tuesday Poem poet, Kathleen Jones. From here you can explore a diversity of other Tuesday poems.
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