On a cool damp night
the patter of the port subsided
drips of the cold rain echo

a captain ripe with whiskey
breaks the silence of the harbor
feeling his way back
to the flat on high street

navigating his feet on each stone
he muttered to himself
“left, right and then right again”

ending at a stoop
he found the *** within three
“click” the humble door opened

entering the dwelling
ready for the weeks pummel
he swung his fists at the inhabitants
especially the women, the wife

this night was routine
the smell of whiskey, puke and **** is familiar
but, tonight the mist in the air was different
his blood boiled with fermented spirits
his eyes gazed an emptiness of black

with a quick hand
reaching for a sparkle of steel
he firmed his grip and pulled from the block

it made a “ting” sound as it cut the air
meeting gently with mothers throat
with rage, his eyes stabbed with intention
holding the cold steel to freckled skin
his remarks filled her eyes with fear

and I in the corner, watching, listening, feeling and rocking
yes that was you, as a sea captain
and I was there