Swells

Caterwauls and

Catamarans,

Banshees and

A boat. 

Sailors don’t die 

By surprise. 

Their demise is 

Preceded by 

Portents, signs 

In the sea and sky.

The Norns snip to

A beat only seamen 

Hear, syncopated 

Dances of doom 

Choreographed to 

The flailing of limbs,

Three marks below 

The bar and foam,

As alone they limbo 

To Limbo and beyond. 

The Locker awaits 

With all one needs

On Fiddler’s Green,

Those knickknacks 

You would otherwise 

Miss for eternity.