Plain text:

The Deckhand Dreams

by George Vukelich

The deckhand dreams of his women

on the beach.

The far-eyed girls

his widow wife and child

waiting.

Beyond the breakers.

Beyond the gulls.

The movements of the pristine winds

soft and swishing as rosary beads

wound round the hands of young nun women.

The time of the sailors:

men in the worn down sea boots

working out the long waters

and waiting for a season

ashore.

The loneliest men in the world.

They watch from their wheel houses

and mark the miles in the millions.

Beyond their bows

the storms form up

and begin to sweep.

* * * * *

Ten o’clock at night and a heavy sea ********

The AB Deckwatch Old Petersen sleeps in the tomb ***

What are his dreams?

Where his woman

Good Christ. One day, one night

the young man will come to dream

the old dreams.

The sailor poets and their mouths gone slack

for live

and love

and God.

Dear Christ.

Faces floating in the surf.

In the deadlight nights

we wait for the sun

and all the mornings coming.

Strong

and strong

and strong as birth.

* * * * *

We go looking for Life and Love.

On the beaches behind, out wives

heavy with child

and light in their hearts.

We dream of Heaven

and sail in Hell.

Our time of the Storm.

Our time of the bell

watches and cargoes

seeing the swell run quick to the land.

We of the Ships: our blood in these boats.

Hope in our bellies and fear in our throats.

God Christ, sweet God.

Forgive us our trespasses for we have sinned.

Our women caught in the fisherman’s seine.

Not struggling

and watching the sky for a sign.

All of them dying.

Get home soon. Get home.

Their deaths too

come by drowning

and not

in the Sea.