Time Wharf

To see with our eyes
we must materialize

whilst embracing
we whisper secrets

blending breath
with tenderness

We view the port
with its docks
at ebb tide

crabs in the mud
trawler resting
on its side

scent of creosote
where gulls

The hull rights
as water returns
and the skipper
invites us aboard

From the bridge
a ladder descends
to the hold where
cod are kept on ice

Stench of bilge fills
the cramped space,
and then the pump
resumes its labour

Should my heart stop
watch these eyes dim
as clouds clear above

If the skies be rent
and god appears
I’ll hold you near

and if missiles fly
I shall lie down,
dear, with you

Raised, the anchor
clangs on the prow

Through the hatch
we see lufting sails

No longer can we step
from deck to wharf

Douglas Smith, formerly a teacher of Anthropology at York University, is a homeopathic physician.and author of several books on alternative medicine. It is claimed (although Dissident Voice has no proof of this!) that Doug and his partner grow the best garlic in Haliburton County. Read other articles by Douglas.