The Leftover Pieces
We called our vessel the
David Robert Jones.
A time of travelling,
esoteric and distanced from others.
Bodies without borders,
boundaries blurred by betrothal.
You told me a mariner’s tale
of two and their tangible, yet,
Life based on oblique sailing strategies
and the fear of seeing a mermaid.
Folklore guiding a doomed ship
close enough to land,
but far enough away to never see it again.
a relationship of jetsam
and leftover pieces.
© swissterrace 2023
I felt like flotsam for most of my younger life. Good write.
thankyou – i missed the comments as i could login to this site. thanks
Nice use of alliteration in this piece. There’s also a sense of foreboding that makes it appealing and I really enjoyed the final line.
hi sorry this is a little late in response. But many thanks.