THE STOLEN SHIP by Harris Coverley
 
We stole the quaint little ship from the jetty
And sailed over to that small hidden isle
Out there towards the middle of the tiny sea
In those tepid waveless waters of indigo
And when we arrived we jumped off
 
You took that box you’d had for years
(A dark wooden thing, sealed with a brass Venetian lock
Always near you, always on you, always within reach)
Found the softest ground you could
And buried it nice and deep and tight
In that isle’s cold raw earth once undisturbed
 
We had our fun amongst that slither’s sparse trees
And then got back on the ship and sailed homeward
I then asked you: “What was in that box anyway?”
And you greeted me with silence but not alone
For it came with that blank smile of yours
As cold and crisp as that isle’s fair ground
 
When we got back no one dared arrest us
The ship had been unmissed and unneeded
For there was no one left in this world anyway
And we sat about waiting for the coming angels
And that eternal night in whose dusk we sat.
 
THE END

 

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