Sunday, April 05, 2009

Cold Sailing



Kidnapped from my busy life

I find myself prisoner on a run-down ship

adrift in a cold sea of crumpled tissues

rocked by squalls of wet sneezes

wracked by shuddering coughs.


The skin around my nose has worn thin

and crackles with a glaze of dried salt.


I cower in my berth,

baffled by a turgid industrial dispute

which has put all services on go slow.

Every time try to I speak up,

demanding some normality,

my voice sounds strange in a new way.


Peering through the bleary porthole

I scan the horizon for some sign

of healthy life, preparing for escape

by emptying a raft of little bottles

down my swollen throat.

1 comment:

Kay said...

I hear you!
A great analogy. I hope you can disembark from that old rust-bucket soon and it can be all plain sailing for you once more.