Boats mist (poem)

The boats are slipping past me in the mis

t/low breathing past the pier on glassiness/

I hug the air around me like a fur/

first light is still a dream of weightlessness

The fishermen lean out towards the shoals

/Their faces, soft as moss, try to catch the flash of souls/

They pad along the pier like careful cats

/Rubbing up against the velvet cold

Then I see you, as if floating, through the fog

Some say that those we love are never gone

And like a dream that floats forever on sleeps tide

I’m warmed by by you in some soft seabirds song