Castaway
I whisper into a loud wind
for you to stay;
clouds gather, and the sea
rolls you away.
From the deck of a ship
awkward as a floating cafeteria
I am remembering you,
while strands of light
flex the water to flame
as summer begins on the sea.
This scene keeps waves
of every blue,
moving like pales dreams
through my arms,
the heavy shoulders of rocky bluffs half peeking.
Your shape
slips past the horizon;
what once I could touch
I now only see.
words © 2000 Brock Bowman
image © 2000 Jon Reischl