Sea race

Off the shoal-spit of craggy rock,
Bow plying riptide and whitecap,
Keel dragging the barnacle hair,
Sails full in the wild cells of wind —
We race in the sea-house of unnerving
Depths,
Pushing our limits, seeking mercy from
The water god.

My mind winds like a sail winch,
Stubbornly turning, oxygen pushing;
My hands calloused, the redness
Talks to my palms — subtle
Tongue.

The race is on, breath held till the
End of the line,
Curve of water leaping, ungrateful
Bureau of salt;
I didn’t call you — you rowed to
Me like a rusted anchor,
Attached yourself like a surgeon,
Sheet-cuffed me
And anesthetized my spirit.

Nevertheless, I expunge your body;
Pushing by my heart,
Holding the umbilical of the wind,
Off, off to the finish —
Riding the currents, miraculous sea;
And comes a victory,
Dazzling end.

Copyright © 02/03/18 lance sheridan®

Sea race

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