raw no more can I bear, for winter
has leaned muscles that attach me to the deck
and I am as liable to fade away as sea foam
after a storm.
I can feel
the pull of deeper warmth. Feel too,
a longer greener belly to lie against.
Your temper with sails and roof
has the upper port deck leaking
when your shoulder leans too far from the west.
Deeper still is winter's teeth in the larger waters
beyond the prow. Two more days of hard fishing,
two more days without
the warmth of what I love dearest in the world
our arms like dry matches against each other,
our dry dry clothing folded neatly on the floor.
