Rust

A slight metallic taste on your skin
in the sweat of your body after sex
took me back in my sleep to the docks
and the inspiration of ships and deep water.
You were with me there, a shadowy figure,
and you led me to where she stood
watching a single-stacker tying up, absent,
eyes fixed on the waterline and the greasy trickle of a bilge.
We didn’t speak, just watched as the elegant iron
rusted slowly in the corruscating sea, rotting
as our love did, beneath sight and out of mind until,
it’s back broken, it sank in some deep.

Waking in the night, I didn’t know what to say.
I doubted you had spoken, knew she wouldn’t listen.
An ocean floor lay about that dark room
and somewhere far above a bell rang, beyond my hearing.

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Comments

  • lifethroughblueeyes  On June 3, 2011 at 4:35 am

    I found this one through someone else, and so glad I did.

  • 1emeraldcity  On November 18, 2011 at 5:53 am

    God, this is sad! An old rusted hulk, an old rusted love. But put together so well. I can taste the old oil and rust. Imagry here is great!

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