kin ~ third

on this pewter ship of sacred kin,

embroidered sails bearing paislies, peacocks, and curlicues

we are borne away a motley crew

scuffed knuckles bearing marks anew

as we learn reverse rowing.

 

no cloying here, no braided heads

we’ve been hosed down

nozzles on full blast

washing upturned noses of past

tweaking truculence into temperance.

 

all hands aboard meshed

work hard the bristly slack ropes

bedraggled jeans

bear holes at the knees

leaving striations on skin.

 

browse the gangway then,

we are a plumed company

looking out laughing eyes at new places

shining from in the sweaty faces

of sacred kin on this pewter ship.

 

 

 

Read the first third of this poem here and the second third here.

 

 

This Wordle here

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