Trenched

From fountains we reach

broken bones,

and the oceans we find

stale;

the rims we cast with

Mother’s ale,

To the ties

She’s tasked to sail.

 

How with Mother’s ale,

oh, the winds we’d fare

on true seas of dust

and dare,

abound the siren’s hymn

which none shall swim

past rocks of uncommon

fair.

Reviews

[PhoenixDown]

Partial to this one for many reasons. I always keep an eye out for pieces referencing the ocean or beach. You also have a unique & creative vocabulary. Your subtly and play is enjoyable. Your attention to structure is noticed.
And your mention of sirens is pretty rad.

[Kristine Ferg]

Thank you!