Disorder Painted

Disorder painted
In the mist
Like Turner’s
Flailing ships,

Fog steeped storms
And waves,

A crumbling cave
And a mourning,

Unease dropped
Like a warning,

A bent colonial
Seafaring song.

Then a mystical sunrise,
A seep of burnt yellows

Stained in a
Deep rusty peach,

A sighing ocean
Exhausted

And its crooked,
Lapping tide.

Scattered detritus
Hooked on rocks,

Moss licked
In coves,

A cranny
Where those old
Snapped words
Our ancestors left

Are pieced slowly
Together in tropes,

Kissing the ages,

Left floating
Forever unfound.

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