Bed sheets spread wide
over the living room floor;
the bilge of our boat -
bleached, with birds or flowers,
afloat on a soft shag sea.
Down pillows in brown cases,
our slat-wood bulwarks,
Hot chocolate our seaman’s brew
to help us navigate the night.
In a linen wheelhouse
the trappings of twilight set around us,
I would sleep under your weathered arm
until I grew sea legs of my own.
Gravel Magazine - May 2015