Literary Yard

Search for meaning

By: Tom Sheehan


Two boys went to sea last night,
riding an ice floe broken
from the river dam,
pilots at the helm.

Some say a standard flew,
brisk pennant’s wave,
admiral’s flagship.
I dream of water and ice,

dread armadas, sea grab,
cascade of a frozen edge,
how darkness keeps a cry,
who sleeps in empty beds.


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