Pitch and Tar To Soil His Hands

Dipped in the ways of the sea,
Coil of rope tensed like a snake
To pounce on the tie-up at the harbour.
Dark blue the dragons and sharp anchors
Weighing heavy on long-boned sailors’ arms.

Time and tide and much salt
Carve and corrode their own patterns
Over and under creaking muscles,
Taking their toll on mariners
Who pay freely, without question.