A sparkling afternoon
with a veteran of the slave ships.
Our careless liberty.
My hands on her hips.
Adrift on the water
and ending too soon.

Last night we walked the salmon run,
and spoke with our eyes.
Her honeyed tounge
Numbing my deceit.
Like a Colombian curse.

With her in the tower.
Laid bare to addiction.
In the hot moisture of our fusion.
Dew drops from her salty skin,
indulging each exquisite sin,
unharnessed.
Bound for daybreak.

Once I might have had the nerve
to sabotage the Polar Star.
With a road flare in the engine room
or an auger bit below.
But time has torn the spine from me.
And groomed me for humanity.
I've bent my knee to smoke and fear
And now I know the lash.

When winter comes I'll hit Cordova
and find out where she keeps her dogs.
So that I might lay beside them,
with my gentle hands upon them,
and howl for her return.