Treasure Island

F W Finney


The Ropes


Three sailors trotted
Behind your mother in a two-wheeled lifeboat
Like determined rats through the catwalks
To the cages of the newborns
Where we held you captive
On your second day of breathing
In a Fin de siècle world

The first cord is already cut
And wires hang from your navel
As a reminder of ligature to come

For a while all
Will be an extension of your mother
But soon you'll descry
The colourful lures that hang from the mobile;
Feel the strings that tow the conscience;
Hear the sound of the wind through the ratlines
As you try to make slaves of the sails

Submitted: Wednesday, August 07, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, February 11, 2014

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

This poem, dedicated to one of the poet's nephews on the occasion of a first meeting soon after his birth, was first published in Phoenix, Arizona, USA, by South Ash Press, Volume V, No.4 (December 1994) .

Comments about this poem (The Ropes by F W Finney )

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  • Unwritten Soul (8/17/2013 1:10:00 AM)

    Once we tied to our mothers, and the umbilical chord connecting us physically...then we delivered to the word with no more physically attachment but with her care the new ropes tied, and it is love who make it tight. A nice thought you have it here..._Soul (Report) Reply

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