LATE FERRY
Breaking out of deep sea fog in moist full moonlight buoys rocking bells We’re all coming ashore. Who of all these passengers gets to make love tonight? Lean brown lovers kiss on the deck their smooth hair blows together. A fat grey man and his shabby wife eat potato chips in the snack bar, their feet touch under the table. When he brings her coffee she smiles, with one rough finger strokes his hand.
We just returned from a trip to Nova Scotia. I wrote these poems in 1998, and here they are, in honor of that trip.
Mary F. C. Pratt
SourceLicence:CC BY-SA 3.0