The Devil's YachtA Poem by David Lewis PagetThe yacht swept up in the dunes had been Abandoned the year before, I came across it, quite by chance Some miles away on the shore. The bow was buried, the mast had gone I climbed and I peered inside, And there in the cabin, it seemed to me That somebody must have died.
There were stains of blood on the cabin floor, Stains of blood on the sink, Handprint stains on a cupboard door, I took me outside to think. Without a body the boat felt right, I needed somewhere to stay, And this was cosy and out of sight, As free as the livelong day.
I used seawater to clean it up, I got the cupboard to shine, Whoever had bled in there before This cabin would do just fine. I found some blankets under the bunk To set up a makeshift bed, I felt like a proud new owner there And the feeling went to my head.
I caught some fish in the darkening light And cooked it there on the beach, The flames had flickered and showed the mark As high as the tide could reach. A breeze blew up and I crept inside Protected from wind and rain, And sat, and pondered a lazy pipe In there, where a corpse had lain.
It must have been after the Moon went down I first heard the woman’s cries, Up from the shore, through the cabin door, ‘You’re always telling me lies!’ The wind was howling about the dunes And the waves beat loud on the shore, And over it all, the woman’s wail, ‘We’ve been through all this before.’
Then something clambered up on the deck A thing with an ominous tread, The hairs stood up on the back of my neck As the woman wailed, ‘You’re dead!’ The thing jumped down to the cabin floor In a shapeless gown of black, All I could see were two red eyes As it moved on in to attack.
The blade of a knife flashed by my face, It gleamed in the light of the stars, I tried to cry, ‘Whoever you think I am, I’m not, I’m Lars!’ But the blade sank home in my shoulder then And I reached for it in pain, I cut my hand on its sharpened blade As it tried to strike me again.
That shapeless thing had let out a shriek, Had glared with its two red eyes, ‘Why do you hide on the Devil’s yacht If you’re not a part of his lies?’ I tried to answer but nothing came The pain swept me like a wave, And blood was seeping from cuts and wounds I was trying in vain to stave.
The figure turned and it left the yacht, I staggered up to the deck, And watched as it entered the breaking waves, A sight I try to forget. There were stains of blood on the cabin floor, Stains of blood on the sink, Handprint stains on a cupboard door, They were always mine, I think.
For the woman that I’d been hiding from Had sworn with her final breath, ‘I’ll seek you out, wherever you’ve gone, It won’t be a peaceful death. I shall loose the demons from the hell That you gave me, ready or not.’ How could I know that they’d find me where I’d hid, on the Devil’s Yacht?
David Lewis Paget © 2015 David Lewis PagetFeatured Review
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