Janet Mary Zylstra
Poem by Janet Mary Zylstra
A sullen, sneering wind whines round the ship.
Punched and tossed about by mighty waves with mighty fists,
She shudders as her rust scarred face is slapped in jest
And tears stream down her peeling paint.
Seagulls trail overhead.
A wake of foam white birds with iron wings.
Disciples of the sea.
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