clearing out my purse, found I'd written this
I am a woman
in the bonnet on the deck
of HERS heaving, occupied
hands, my holding the bow
in place beneath my chin.
He is a man
in the boards of the ship
HIS riding occupied salt,
HIS cutting waves as foam
beards liquid blue.
She is a vixen,
that Sail billowing
far above my hand-held
bow & bonnet blown, HER
Sails continue to carry me
seasick, footless foe, small feet,
clamped chin, hollow hull &
grateful deck, boards, keeping
me dry.