That Sinking Feeling

Erratic inclines of murk thrash
against the salt-stained splinters protruding from a weathered hull.
A snarling turbulence tears at the tense sails as it pushes
past the acres of vacant horizon.
Frothing white spills in, drowning the deck.

Shadowed clouds conspire above,
stunning the boat;
then, moments later, cackling.
Vicious spitting burns the weary workers’ dead skin
as each tug at the mast trying to change
what has already been confirmed.

A flash.
Planks explode propelling
shards of hardwood at the crew.
Ripping,
Cutting,
Lacerating.

The hull swells and tips as
its aged frame is swallowed by the darkness.
Injected by an incurable fate.
The carcass is dissembled and
discarded to float forever.
Lost limbs flail in the heavy water;
liquid-filled lungs push silent bubbles up.

No witnesses.
Well maybe, but he is reluctant to help.

Shadows writhe below the sudden smoothness
as the brightest blue begins to break above;
parting the cloud curtains and pour colour upon the sea.
The lucid laugh of seagulls, whilst swooping at the fresh discarded fish,
hushes the angered winds.
The placid water bobs gently, erasing all prior events.
The sun smiles warmly upon the vast, rippled mirror.

A vessel appears over the break
between the clouds and the deep.
Its arthritic mast creaks as it crawls through the current.
Nets litter the ocean and fish are left gasping in wooden crates.

The sun frowns.
Small waves stalk the floating threat.
The sails quiver in a gust of air…