Being the Hero

Calculated distant

gulf imposed later-day Dives–so thirsty:



un-wanted, excised, selective dross un-made.

Mortal memories exiled


my loss,

or more marooned,

on a witch’s island.

Knowing the ill conceived plan,

ship of rudder-loss

no traces no currents to Ithaca;

not to spare me

yet to save you,

imagined humiliation.

That sea, chasm across wide divide

an illusion, mockery

how once sweet water

rancid turned.

And how none-to-drink shall slake the parched tongue;

pursue rogue leviathan intercept

cradle mast-plagued sea bird of death

yet worthy company dis-missed– or condemned, a sacrifice, a trick.

Wine-dark sea beckons

the horror,

the horror,

the horror

its gales howl.

c. Lemuel

21 June 2018

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s