There is a ship
sailing close to sea,
but never out
beyond the waves;
it watches sun
and dolphins chase
the sandy light,
and shallows safe.

I call your name.

In blue-toned depths,
with fish and pearls,
mid spray and decks,
wet sails unfurled,
each shadow kept
close to our breast.
The tide comes in,
the ocean swept.

I call your name.

You circle back.

Your flag unraised.
Your maps intact.
All fears appraised.
It’s not the lack
of heart or love
or hope or fact.
Or sailing forward,
heading fast.

I call your name.

Another current
pushing back;
like raucous gulls
above the shore,
or errant clouds
in billowed rumble,
I wave and run
I cry and tumble.

I wade out.

Impatient. Fast.

I call your name.