Friday, December 4, 2009

A Complaint About Getting On the Gangplank


Illustration by Robin Carter


A Complaint About Getting on the Gangplank


Straw-yellow gangplank quivers, wind shook, rocks.
Some planks are missing, holes. Beneath
Needlefish, seaweed swim. A slip, a fall.
Above the circling of red headed buzzards.

On brow, a snake, gold, sticks out its tongue.
We walked toward entrance of an empty ship.
We have no need to be on planks, but are.
We strut, look down, as if we were puppets.

A monk, rope round his waist, stumbles, hurries.
He has a purpose, belief. We are slow,
Enjoy the danger, despair about end.
Once on gangplank one must pretend, then move.

- Duane Locke

Posted over on A World of Poetry

1 comment:

Jannie Funster said...

Ahh, the great gangplank of life we all are on.