fraught heat to love's cornice
and the fog thawed in,
the stone coping's moss, the *******'s coarse and, christ, it's new age sin,
where do we rebuild everythin'?
well, I'd offer,
though, I know, the port would be half-mast and tapped,
sea: won't conceal it,
i'll call and cosher your
waning moon and endless wells
your epoch: now a beached shell,
though unorphaned 'cross
your lost love's blanket of stars,
inked into the deepest of skinned scars.
you're at the helm now baby,
it's a handless haul, too vast to crawl, 'midst the squall of it all,
kittens in hand, head anchored in sand
you reach for 3rd mate in.
and, so, the sea was peaceful,
so your heart could see again.
This is an unfinished piece but would like people's opinions on it.
'Cornice' refers to a snow cornice: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Snow_cornice