Crossing

Cold fish with cold eyes swim through these waters
where green hair is waving under the surface,
fantasy shaped plankton feeds the species
as we cross the sea by ferry reading books.

We don’t know of what goes on beneath us,
our books give us a world to pass our time.
Cold fish with cold eyes swim underneath us.
They live in the bowed ribs of drowned sailors.

Green hair is waving there under the surface,
and we have our coffee, a sandwich, fruit.
Discussing the chapters we read, we smile.
Cold fish with cold eyes swim underneath us.

The repeating engine drum makes us sleep,
while in the ribs of dead sailors fish swim,
the table is trembling, a spoon falling,
some coffee is spilled. We arrive in port.

Where are you going to on the mainland?
I dare not ask you now we are polite.
We had our coffee together, we read.
Once! We knew more of eachother. Arriving.

Cold fish with cold eyes stay behind down there,
we don’t know of what goes on beneath us,
discussing the books we have read, we smile
as we embark the ship. We know nothing.

Comments on: "Crossing" (6)

  1. This is a really clever, well-constructed poem.

    I have read it a number of times – it gets better with each reading.

    Arohanui
    David
    xxx

    • Hi David,

      thank you very much. πŸ™‚
      I am always pleased when you find a poem of mine worthy of rereading πŸ™‚

      Arohanui
      xxx

  2. I ADORE this one, Ina … such a sense of the mythology – the unknown – of the sea and the journey of love and life. Wonderful images and rhythm – just wonderful! XO β™₯

    • Hi Diane,

      thank you very much. What lies under the surface… who knows! πŸ™‚

      β™₯ xx

  3. I often think of this. The way we live in carefree ignorance of other perspectives. A thought you express so well

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