Skagerrak

Skagerrak I

Storm roared black ridges,
high on hurricane gale,
raised a liquid ridge at the shoals
on a flash draped horizon
to stretch its fingers in curse
and spit its rabid salty froth
to stain safe rock.

They called children in,
tied extra hemp to runners,
wrapped linen squares to bundles,
locked in dry cellars and attics.
They turned their heads west,
south west, and waited

for diabase to rattle
and a thousand mile anger
born in old gods' domain
to whip their faces.

Skagerrak II

Before the day
the German morass
in officer robes and
salt bleached swastika
came on a burly wave
and stuck his prime
war quality boot between
glacier clicked boulders,

the rock was just a rock

and Johan wouldn't go there
to troll for wrass and eel.

        Because who'd carry
        a quivering catch
        from 'just a rock'?

But Gunnar toed
a bloated devil to port,
and Alma washed
rotting toes out of
prime war boots,

        Because you just don't
        waste good boots.

before insisting
on a proper Godly prayer.

        Because even Germans
        must have mothers.

The next day,
Johan went to German's Rock
and pulled seven wrasses
a dozen and three eels
and a trout.

Skagerrak III

Kneel by the water line,
with September ruffled bangs
and still bare feet,
to tickle the ocean, to sign
your name in surface tension.

Feel me
read your fingertips
from a distant shore.