Chop of salt
blue brine
fantail
cigarettes burning
my nose and giving
me a headache
through all my
homesick
Tossed port side
or was it starboard?
Either way, you
threw me like the
ship’s roll.
Dungaree handholds -
everyone knew
except for you.
Wounds weep
years later from
my salty lick
and I’m
sorry.
Unscathed but
forever scarred
with the hope that
the last time
wasn’t the
last.
