Alchemisland

Wispy clouds Stetsoned and made alleged Sol’s weathermaking head.

The Waker’s air raid alarm was slapped quiet like a mid-century stepson.

Many hair-raising trials had he endured, emerging uncured of weakness

But to strife inured, shorn of shyness and driven to speak up, to seek;

Dad always said life’s bread’s one foot afore th’next, unto deadness;

“Step by step, Son. Tend well your feet.”

Morning cold’s licked crowbar taste, early May’s lipsplitting unheats

Already he steels against what evening will bring

On stinking docks comprised of rotting logs, girdled by

The melted rink of the undrinkable sea, full of harsh salinity;

Same as he, thought he in his meaty divinity.

Dog-sized gulls hogged the nothing-ever-on box of the sky.

Antonio and he side by side,

And also the ghosts of every bloke whose boat ere was lost.

Rank eels moved like puzzling graphs near reed-climbed locks,

And further aloft the half locket necks of lop-provoking swans

Promised true love songs.