Mary of the Sea

— Nick Butterfield

Came here inside a cargo boat.

Her head once lay against a bulkhead for a pillow.

 

I couldn’t find her gravestone,

I couldn’t find her trail

 

That led here, where her dreams

live in pillows made of freedom.

 

A seed of hers, I dreamt I became a fish

then took the bait.

 

 The barbed hook and  taste of freedom

now embedded inside my cheek.

 

This the trail that led me back from where I came,

still won’t let me go.

 

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