Old School
A self-important ship,
its four-letter unword thrusting
aside Johnny Bucco,
rolled around our scene
in girth, in tonnage,
amid the flotsam.
Young was I, filtering
Captain Ahab's Omnibus
for newsy plankton.
Juvenile feeder in the Zygote Sea
was I, as saltettes raised and lowered
fragile world, our double-hung
sash tall as a foremast,
with their chained harpoon.
The lesson: gel coat laminate
interpretive panel, high tensile
mount.
Mark Blaeuer lives
near Hot Springs, Arkansas. His poems have appeared in Centrifugal Eye, Otoliths, and SurVision. A collection, Fragments of a Nocturne, was
published by Kelsay Books in 2014.