Last night I dreamed I sailed the wide sea
below Amalfi the boat stood on its stern in the
tall swells there was the smell of oilcloth and fish
nets and the hulk of an old ship laced with
foam and far from shore you came up beside me
a lamppost was there and then it wasn’t
snow started to spit and lemons fell
like pale tears while we stood and talked
of all that had passed silent between us
and you laughing suggested we make love
in midair over the angry Italian chop
“don’t you want to fall a thousand times
to drop into this murderous surf
on the edge of everything tilted like this
there is always somewhere to fall from.”
Art Credit: Ivan Aivazovsky, Shipwreck, 1856
Public Domain
