the clipper

the clipper

today he was an enzyme.
re-animated
i laughed
and untied ties.
he said that my eyes were telling stories
and that many of them
were as old as god.
i laughed again
timorous and flushed
holding my sides tightly
fearing the scab would split.
when he chanced at placing his hand on my neck
i suddenly remembered
that i was awake
in a reality of traveling instruments.
i bid him farewell
and said i'd be going to the coast
more alive today than i had been for sometime.
i thanked him with a nod
wordless, promising
the grey-white light
befalling the powdered sandy sediment upon my damp skin.
i am the ship; the great clipper ship.
conquering distance and the magnitude of ebb and flow.