Seafoam at a Dream's Behest

 



Afore the browning ivory,
I'll kiss upon cast-iron shores

and swallow this diazepam
on every exhale, catching yours

in ripples losing all translation
to the clatter of my brain

like ripples, always dissipating,
parting ways, then...down the drain

as prism-pale dishwater
turning seafoam at a dream's behest

and loose lips, in their sinking
of these far off ships, can sing the rest