Erosion licks the metal like an
owl in a hat. The past two days
take hold of us, and guide our
way back to the cove we set
out from. Notches on the edge of
the deck are made with an old
whaling spear that was only used
once for real, and it was on a different
boat. They represent the number of
monsters they’ve pulled from the sea,
and if you ask about specific ones
they remember the story like the
faces of their mothers.
A particular jagged mark that stood
arrogantly at one of the corners
caught my eye and I asked what
they caught that day.
In what was almost another language
they painted a picture of something
like the devil, but with no need for
the trickery and the fire.
Fire And Trickery
Teleporting Typewriter 