Nitrogen
Bowsprit of Hal’s flagship,
salvaged, warped & carved
from a limb
of a blasted, reformed
Medieval oak in Chippenham,
Lies in silt,
To be encountered by
us divers:
Pearlfishing.
Philandering
Through flounder shoals,
amongst the groundswell Lumpen Cray and basking catfish,
Till,
Low on air
we ascend,
cautious and bendless,
to the sky blue
Gingham canopy.
Slow and sexy
The tablecloth
Is outspread.
Faraway in Chippenham a sparrow rests
And a worm dines;
The tablecloth is the same gingham
It is just the angles that are different.
Three oaken leaves woven
for the fallen.
Here,
Hal’s bowsprit once looked down.
The sparrow ate the worm,
Knowing
A Pal would replace it:
Heroically.
Grimbeau 