Maritime Poetry

Late at night I woke up at the sea

I fell asleep at the bottom of the ocean

Without remembrance of the land

Oh poor head, where are you heading to?

I saw the images of dirty attics

Whispered to me long before

Attached to birthday cakes and beyond

I will close my eyes and touch the frost

Salvador is selling beggar coats

For a few kisses they are yours

And you will feel his breath in yours

But you won’t see a glimpse of him

We forget a piece of our disguise

We definitely left in our eyebrows

Instead we drown ourselves in Victorian capes

And bury the paintings on our foreheads

Late at night I woke up at the sea

I fell asleep at the bottom of the ocean

Without remembrance of the land

Oh poor head, where are you heading to?