Alchemisland

Navvies with pole rot giving knee tremblers to cotton-rogued dollies dockside

Hempen hawser holds rocking boat Houario, who by morning hears Iberian arias and by evening thumbs claddagh rings in Irish bars

Humping harder chasing little bardo

Whore spends poundful hours pounded by Horatio, heave-hoe a drop of Nelson’s blood and he’s ready to go again, hey ho roll and go

Frigging in the rigging sometimes, it’s frocks-up at the docks

Clinkerbuilt tugs him like rigging, pulls up her frilly hems and fingers like he is fishing worms from dirt

Prow-first she sinks into the drink, like empty-brigged vessels with blood-slick decks

Siren songs long-held notes like old Ireland’s sean-nós, scrotum-tightening waters snot green seething

Swore like teething pains, ravished beneath mainsails.