In Sponson's Wake

in sponson’s wake of beetled prow,
cold foam formed horizons far,
gray mist above, blue black below,
pitted keel thrum anchored flow,

splintered spar led teakwood jibe
dawn broke on that deeper now,
luff and taut blown by four winds,
hidden rough in burlap skins,

‘midship foundered salt and stream,
masthead wound in boatswain’s flail,
Orion’s bow with sextant cast,
fled the stars from siren’s fast,

skyline blurring creased by waves,
underway from hoisted port,
manticore and fading soil,
hempen frayed this seaman’s coil.