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Good Morning
Breaking through the foam, a
Mermaid with open arms
Salt-scrubbed of color
Is held everlasting captive
On the bowsprit.
Sunrise on an endless ocean,
The water a second sky
Which sailors spit in
Sweating and thankful for the watch change
And their boiled breakfast
Creaking masts:
One ship’s boy still snoozes in the crow’s nest,
The bit of twine curled in his fist
A mighty helm in daring daydreams
Ropes snap and crackle,
Tighten to curb voluptuous sails
That move
Like Cupid’s playmates fluttered behind them,
Winged infants pressing tiny fists into the canvas
As if to taste with fingertips
The wind’s white shadow
Faint grey-tipped murmurs
Coast lazily,
Dipping saccharinely into the rustling wake
To cradle in welcoming mouths
Lost fish that swirl confused.
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