Poetry

The Drowning of Glory

By February 4, 2009 No Comments

Loud bells yell escape
As ice water swabs at my feet
I stand on the bridge of a captain
Who fears to sleep in the deep

Weathered fingers comb the wheel
As shocked streams row adrift
I stand alone with tradition
And tradition goes down with the ship

The for’c’sle fills with future
As ice water wends past my knees
I stand in slacks of honor
For a youth who can’t appease

He cast off with utters of logic
No loss to be had on his plate:
Life is more than merit
I lead away from this fate

Taps calls the copper sky
As ice water climbs to my breast
I stand on a guide to dignity
Like Achilles I will rest

The bow points towards heaven
As ice water stiffens my face
I stand until the bitter end
The lines all stowed in place

Thoughts sink to memories
As hands no longer grip
I float a shellback captain
And the captain goes down with the ship