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Ahoy
By Paul Cameron Brown
Image throttled in the subconscious,
romantic throwback -
the mind on a voyage round land's end
to eclipse pyramidal fires
set as beacons along rock strewn shores -
her skeletal inhabitants on ice flows
wrapped in bearskins
with dirks between their teeth
slapping one another to keep warm.
Then, alpine ranges carrying
the plight of the Andes in their mouth;
a dull, white sail propped against ship's bow
with a noise like an anvil
coming loose in the brain.
More frightening, sailors mutiny on a diet
of bread as sallow maggots
march in a quarter horse sized trot
across the floorboards.
Such men in the bellows of one's mind
break out rubber dinghies
in quickening escape thru the
maw of an Arctic sea.
Expiry. Dry rot. Sunken astrolobe
and an armada of feelings drifting alone.
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