Song of the Drowned
Posted: 14 Jul 2019, 08:27
We all live in a yellow submarine.
Aeons of war and shipwreck
have left our bones scattered
across ocean floors the way
a reckless child strews sticks.
We rise from the tangle of spars
and masts, reassemble ourselves
like tinker toys, don skin and clothes,
revisit the world of men just
long enough for a drink, a toss
with a fair maid, then return to the
rectitude of the sea, where there
are only two rules: revere your
brother's soul commited to the deep
and never rise faster than your bubbles.
Aeons of war and shipwreck
have left our bones scattered
across ocean floors the way
a reckless child strews sticks.
We rise from the tangle of spars
and masts, reassemble ourselves
like tinker toys, don skin and clothes,
revisit the world of men just
long enough for a drink, a toss
with a fair maid, then return to the
rectitude of the sea, where there
are only two rules: revere your
brother's soul commited to the deep
and never rise faster than your bubbles.