ENCHANTED SHIP

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a ship, a girl, a memory, an end, going towards and away from but returning to

Somewhere in my mind

there was a leakage:

witness the slow accumulation

of grey water,

but I still began, down stony beach

and shackled track, the walk to town.

 

And as the stars,

bloated by too much rain,

quested the sky like lonely birds

I knew another presence there.

She walked. She spoke.

Her hair was perfume

and her dress swung round her knees

until its music maddened me,

but even then she was already coasting

down the sombre streams and out to sea

 

like some enchanted ship,

or mystery.

 

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