Paw the cat/kitten,
Black as black can be
With one white mitten,
Drapes himself
On Sister Darling’s shoulder,
As we wait (perhaps unwisely)
On the Lighthouse dock,
To watch the passage of sunken ships,
On this night when the Otherworld
Enters into our own.
Sister Darling,
Of The Rarefied Church of The World (Reformed),
Notes that Paw has (perhaps wisely)
Nestled beneath the waves of
Her long, flowing hair,
So one can only see
His gleaming eyes and
One white paw.
The sunken ships, each in their disarray
Of tattered and shattered
Sails, spars, jibs,
Yards, booms, masts,
And other savaged rigging,
Moan and splash and sigh
As they pass.
The dead sailors stand at the rail,
Beseeching,
Without word or movement.
I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2026 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report. DE BA. UEL
