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