My Human Disguise.
The mighty sea is slave to storms
And fishing boats slaves to the sea
As men are enslaved by all three.
The deck, stout mast, and taut sail form
The only threat to fend off death.
The sea drowns beneath the typhoon,
What men call an angry god’s breath,
Waves caused by his stirring his spoon.
A gibbous moon runs through the clouds.
Suns skip among the fog and haze.
In a lull, waves, in rows, look plowed,
Then boil in an unsolvable maze.
The ship sights land, rocky, tree-lined,
Safe harbor for the terror-blind.
