We are all awash on a sea of blood
and the least we can do
is wave to each other
Steph, my love, here’s Dad
snapped at sixteen on Broadway
adrift in naval dress
thousands of miles from home
Ten blocks north another Limey
writes in a bar on 52nd Street
“We must love one another or die.”
We must love one another or die
and he nearly did die the night
he saw the periscope, minutes
before the ship sank, another
failure of love. We are all awash
on a sea of blood, all flags.
I am awash in his blood
He survived to sire me
another son of the ocean
where the organs bask like seals
and show me his Wavy Navy cap
and the Nessie periscope photo
“Sweet Thames, flow softly
while I sing my song”
Sweet Thames preserve us
from the cold Atlantic run
The inland sea, incarnadine, connects
the living and the dead
Shades jostle on its shores
He might have been safe
on a cliffed coast, secured by our love
but he wasn’t. The sea
is always with us, and he sank
Love roots in grief
for the drowned
who slipped out of sunlight
Shades crowd our hall
loiter in the bedroom
haunt memory, join
us to the million generations
Take hands in the dark
flesh, dust and breath
Enough of waving
Dad, here’s Steph, my love