Gliding, sliding
power-providing
carrier
hefting metal birds
in your craw
across the crests
and swells
pell-mell bound
for elsewhere.
Your ravens sally forth
return
and perch on your wires
carrying the olive branch
warily
while re-loading lances
for tentative tilts
and jousts
just over the horizon.
Day, night, day, night
cyclic circles
operationally drive
with fire
moving the mobile city
from A to B on charts
incessantly,
wrenching Corsair wings
to flight, to soaring
and to rest.
Fire that burns
the tired heart
between the dark of the deep
the blink of the star
the oath and joy
of a sailing world
the love for her
as she plows the sea,
the love for her
as she waits for me
at home.
God
never make me choose.
I want them both.