The White Boat

There was a time when no space separated us,
a time when moonlight buoyed us for hours in warm currents.

Now we are like fragments of a star blown apart.
Every day a million more miles separates us

until the light your face sends out across the emptiness
feels ancient and cold by the time it reaches me.

All night a heavy ballast of pills drags me through the deepest sea
while you glide invisibly above, a white boat floating across

the white sky of sleep. When I dream, I dream
of the distant shore where you stand waving,

the bright moon of your face shining out across great waters.

Kip Knott | Mudlark No. 26
Contents | Deserted