Lost at sea
By
Jude Kyrie

My poetry has become
a seagulls cry.
My soul is adrift
on a becalmed sea.
This sailors wife
knitted his death
into this sweater.
The sea shall swallow me
with its infinite greed.
The cloudless sky
will take my poems
and recite them
from a place on high.
The verses melt
to a single sound.
My poetry has become
a seagulls cry