Set forth on the vicious sea

Bow tipped forth, jutting into the

ice bath begging us to keel

Tidal wave threatening to swallow us whole

Cabin untenanted by useless articles,

instead brimming to the gunwale with bottles

Tip the whisky forth, jutting into my mouth

Misbegotten creatures

Winter-wretched in the blue vault

Heart full, thinking of home’s hearth

which belies our empty bellies,

forgoing the evening sup again

Our lives are consecrated by the nautical gods

Touching the divine with our fingers – icicles and useless,

dipped in frostbitten air

A maritime communion – we are endowed

with snowflakes on our eyelashes

Bearing the crystalline mark that will

eventually fade, faces red and freezing

Blinking tears away

Our journey is only obstructed by

unwillingness to be unwept,

to walk the plank, to fall overboard,

lost to moonshine madness

A pelagic winter wandering turned into funeral rite

We plunder the deep with our greed, drinking it up

Mead-laden, bellies thawing

Warmth sprouting not quite into our fingertips

Eyes bursting with drops of salty liquid,

now blurry, everything is blurry

It is time for us to be drunk up

Unrig our jib and let nature take its course

And after the evening mull, leave the

wind-jammed mast and sail

Tip forth into white horses playing

on the sea’s surface

Cadaverous ship and wooden planks

upon the rocks –

our home,

our sea sarcophagus