The Flip Side

19 Apr
the maelstrom churns the water below
the monumental rage
lifts up to the brink of heaven
slicing down toward the
swirling black hole

navigation is futile now
the instruments going awry
stepping outside to size up
waves explode the deck
near washed out to sea
slapping off the feet
o i don’t want to be

firing off the flares calling sos
fizzle by the ocean fury
helpless and seasick
saline drips the sea
shouldn't be here
want to go home

the ship
pounded relentlessly
breaks in pieces under me
all control is gone
shoulder the orange life vest
at the mercy of the sea
sucking me in

caught in the whirlpool
fragments of the ship
like the carnival rotor ride
zipping around in dizzying circles
sticking to the inside
around but also down
into the water funnel
maw of the earth's bowels

carried on siesta side to side
lowering down
in faster revolutions
like a giant washing machine
on spin

lean into the swirling vortex
the smiling skipper
lights going out
all of a sudden i see
the sweeping searchlight
where i belong
on the flip

3.8 10/10
© Brian Peter Hodgkinson
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Posted by on April 19, 2022 in Poetry


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