The Vessle Poem by James McLain

I can not leave here again, untill.
The lights have all been dimmed.
And the sun has set with me
up and down, risen against, the sea.
The vessle empty, open lays still.
Waiting again by he to be filled.
Impatience.
Growing up purple here again.
Dull eyes, weary, hearing nothing
about it, my ears can not,
lips part against it.
Perhaps the hands that shape
the new one will.
Then if again naught,
I can not push off and you being still.