voyagers
Voyagers
The old ship
rust stripped like a Sudanese mule
doomed to carry fleeing people across
a landscape of despair
Why, she floats is a lasting mystery
From one obscure port to another
she finds her way
The captain and the chief are never sober
plays ten-cent poker
The captain signs the manifesto but takes
no interest, what's in the ship's hold
other than massive rats
when did the pair come onboard, was it
when they were young and wore uniforms
and had shiny black shoes inspected
the crew's fingernail on Saturdays?
Morning in La Plata
tomorrow I will go ashore in Buenos Aires
eat fresh meat and dance the tango.
Copyright © Jan Hansen | Year Posted 2024
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment