crows nest

i often write to my friend claire about pirates
         the ones on passage with me

one sites lands wrecks
         sea wolfing down whole towns
         licking hot orange and purple spread out from her hand
         urgently waiting the smell of ash and cinder wet and spent
         the feel of a stranger’s silver bowl swiped from the top shelf
         cabinet doors clattering to the floor

one stands in the bow rising falling sea paths by instinct smell
         noticing a milky yellow ring in the albatross eye
         unable to give up pride completely in trough or on crest
         never not hearing the freedom flag snapping

one’s belt and sword lie rusting
         because she is tangled in beauty she cannot destroy
         or understand

i sail under the skull and cross bones 

because death has already won and i’m biding my time