The Lifeboat

The Lifeboat

Bellied alongside

headswept by the breeze

she waits, her decks creaking,

as if making to catch

the strike of feet

upon the quayside:

fearful feet, eager feet

feet as varied as the breeze

tugging salt swells alongside.

Before long they come,

tumbling, stumbling

down the well-worn steps

along the quayside,

over her salt-cracked lip

onto the topside;

some sit, some stand, tap feet,

wring their hands, while their gaze

drifts back toward the quayside.

Out on the swell,

on the oiled dun and ochre

of the silt-floor fracture,

through the wind-sting lash,

the gull shriek crash,

the mainstay's chatter;

and some cry, others mutter

as the upwell and shatter

strikes hard along her broadside.

Reaching leeway

they press forward, hopefully,

peering desperately at the far side;

then finally alongside,

they spill like ghost-shrimp

onto the quayside.

‘Here life starts?’

‘Here life ends?’

Their freedom then decided.

Then she turns and she waits;

bellied alongside

headswept by the breeze,

her hold creaking

as if aching

to be full again.