Pirate

He wanted to be a pirate -
a rogue of waves and plankton
and teakwood decks
that smarted under the sharp rap
of stars streaming off the bow.
He longed to feel rum
cut the back of his throat
and hoist the skull and crossbones
over a ship so far gone
the horizon would never find it.
He wanted to chart winds
that warmed the equator
and let the anchor
carry off the ballast
in the boatswain's burly arms;
to watch gold
cover his hands to the elbows
and sink his lash
into the belly of the storm.

And know the beauty of his enemy
come calling late at night.