Like Two Lost Ships Poem by Oleg Vorobyov

Like two lost ships
on the extraneous waves
at hooting leagues away
communicate,
or farther away through frail radiograms,
my love and I
are set adrift and head for nowhere.

We plough rough seas
and anchors cast
in no-man's lands.
Our hands in air, we cry S.O.S. -
..._ _ _and...
and in-between the punctuated sighs.

Our feelings are
like filings, peelings, husk
blown away by disaffectionate winds.

She's got a skipper,
the keeper of the board,
the master of the course
(his own charted routes)

My ship is no one's:
the barren decks,
a scary rent
below the waterline
where my afflicted heart
would naturally be.

Oh, bloody metaphysics
of John Donne:
strange vessels,
wrecks, discarded boards,
frayed sails, reefs, unrelenting seas!