Our ship’s bow
breaks the crystalline surface
of time. The engines
churn, hull grinds
against broken shards
of the one vast pane.

A cacophony rises
from the deck,
staterooms and steerage.
The city
unto itself
bathes in revelry
and horror,
slings its dead
from the stern.

Most sink,
some float,
in the healing wake
which settles smooth
and forgets
our brief passage.


14 thoughts on “Liner

  1. That middle stanza is exquisite, and the whole metaphor is musical in an ominous and stately way, like the massive ships on an even more inconceivable large ocean whose image you conjure for this voyage of self. Like it much, Matt.

  2. dang yes you bring to life what early exploration must have been like…you could not keep the on board…the though of them floating off into the wake and then beyond is rather grisly…nice capture…

  3. This works on several levels. I like the metaphor of a ship at sea – the revelry and horror. Easy to extrapolate this to space travel…thrown away to the icy cold depths of black space. Well done!

  4. Love the first few lines: “Our ship’s bow/ breaks the crystalline surface/ of time”, and then an ominous feeling with the 2nd and 3rd stanzas… quite a metaphor for a ship at sea or even of life itself… well done.

  5. A titantic trip through life, its disappointments and finally its whimpering, forgotten end….at least, the way I read it. Powerful words and imagry here. xx

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