THE LIGHTHOUSE KEEPER/S

After scavenging through debris,
he sat on the beach to watch the world end.
He asked for balance, but was outnumbered by the waves,
so screamed for silence with a knife made of gold.
He threw it into the water to hear it splash a minute later,
it sunk to the silt and clay.
Though through the murky water, it shone like mountain snow;
the colour echoed, the echo swam over the waves
until it reached the lighthouse keeper
who had been stored there for years.
Her silhouette posed like a full moon and the first flowers of spring.
From over his shoulder flew the crow to show him over the stepping stones.

Their embrace formed like a rainbow
for when the sky falls they shall have a table to shelter.
She’s as lonely as the stars are far, her hunger like warm butter;
his stars are as far, but has hunger like a lost dog.
Their hearts are weak and their skin is thin,
neither can provide what they were searching for in this midsummer night.
They should of kept to empty soup cans on string.
There is dirt on the packhorse, so he follows the moon
aboard the mist back to his brick tower to build another floor of sticks.
And on their sail boats, they take their worm half before they grow whole.