From the Island

Built rigid and worn,

the ship floats,

cabin door ajar.

Below deck

you crouch to enter,

then stand,

in your glorious entirety.


As I consume your stance,

my eyelids flutter like wings

so you steer me.

My vessel shaken,

vision blurred,

captain of pleasure,

break ship.


Not lost nor sinking,

I, now ocean,

beat your rocky shore.

You, steady,

our youthful waists un-wasted,

wash over and recede

many times over.


I am open.



18 February 2018

Kristie M. Hendricks