NaPoWriMo, Day 21

(NOT belated!)






Sailors are buried at sea

and it is said

their faces appear in the waves

for days

following the ship

that bore them

from their homes





A day of chilled spring rain

and the worms creep

like question marks

from their earthy homes

but they lose their way,

find themselves underfoot

or out to dry

what keeps them coming?

why is home not enough?






When he was born, I said

look at his chin

a perfect replica of his father’s

they were the only words I could find

after two days of waves crashing

over me, after a red rope seam

was stitched into my belly

that kept me pressed into my bed.





Evening night glints

on a glass frame

that face is gone

though the glass frame

cradles the photo

holds it tight to itself

as if closed eyes

could return what was lost





The faces in the waves

fade eventually

and the ship is free

to choose its own direction.

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