A crew conspires to loosen tight-wound thoughts
with darkness cocktail, richly soft and sweet
that gives the limbs a tumble even as
the mind, a heavy beast, lays down its horns.
Takes its intermission nightly in
a pool of absence neither black nor white,
wraps itself up tight and waits for rain.
The ocean rises quick from underneath.
An army floats away, deserts the mind,
which finds the brine as breathable as air
and plunges downward, naked and relieved
to touch its moments there among the weeds.
Old captain having sunk unto the depths,
the morning watch promotes one of its own.