Poem By Lazarus Knix
The canvas of this sea glitters with the silhouettes of battleships,
Like children they seesaw on it’s chaotic, chopped surface
A lighthouse awakens, burning luminous circles in the moonless night
While a sharp wind purrs and carries ice-
To each warm surface which permits.
The Captain navigates with silent resolve
As the wind intertwines, advances, evolves.
The lighthouse whispers “Consider my warmth! ”
The Captain replies “Our home isn't port”
Beneath him, The tide's fist tightens his grip…