Trawler

An iron chain on the trawler, Plymouth harbour
heavy, rustedcatches my attention

Your arms round my neck and shoulders
Sub-frequency
Cold claw in my stomach

You remind me of the remand home
Babies with steel fists
keep a watchout for fools

Remember when we studied ourselves
Knew the machine
its tricks and combinations
Was all that a waste of time?
to just drop into glamour
bait and be baited

I'm free to drive home


~ ~ ~


come together

everyone else
I normally manage to shake off
somewhere in between the heights
and the low parts
with contradictions and variance
suitably unlabelled

It's not really meant to drive away
but after a season I glance back
and must conclude
it looks so

I'll stick to one approach
forge a career out of it



~ ~ ~