The pain
my mud-addled brain
there is coffee yet
in that pot
for both of us
to sit across from each other
look dead and cry
each tear making
the coffee stronger
or maybe just blacker
your hot wasps
that drip, drip, drip
and my world rips apart
this pain
my mud-addled brain
is a reimagining
of an encounter
with those mates
who left the ship
untethered and uncared for
in the storm which I found her
she was already dead inside
infested with rats and loneliness
ghosts of those that stayed behind
lurking in shadowy corners
haunting expectant visitors
maybe they do it for laughs
maybe they can’t laugh anymore
maybe you will come aboard this
ship once more and I
will put on a pot of coffee
for old times’ sakes
come hither and die with me
I know you would if you could.
A heathen poet 