Until you're home.

And I sang    
long, cold symphonies across the dividing sea    
which against the current, the heron and oystercatcher    
created a cacophony not even a ferry master could ignore -    
     
And in an uncomfortable juxtaposition      
chains,    
sunken into water, attached to staged boats swayed,    
built up a rhythm in their lightness      
gave noise to the slam down of my, usually lighter to bear, rage.      
 
I watched a man
pulling metal by metal out of the water.  
I hoped it ached.  
I wished it was me pulling. The Cornish Riviera slowed
on the Albert bridge overhead.  A comorant flew low    
and a thought of you, human to my human, tree to my epiphyte sailed by on the exposed wind.    
   
(You always think I'm insulting you, in fact    
I'm anointing you with my vulnerability.      
You always think I'm insulting you,      
when all my roots, ropes and ramblings are wrapped about your vessel.)