Salvage I

You fall into water deep-blue and still
rucking my pretence at equilibrium -
all the subterranean mud and fronded green lying
on the water-floor disturbed, churning, rise
to surface-life to cloud and change the hue
of my day's pale blue eyes, its white face.  You
splutter me with memory I can neither stand nor erase.

Focus One, on cue, turns raucous, desperate
to dull the pain of silence as you go, again,
down my stairs, too uncomfortable to stay for long -
ludicrous claustrophobia closing-in -
you flee from me, a piece of wood
familiar to the hand farflung and landing
too far out to swim, retrieve:
flotsam of years bobbing in the distance, out of reach.

The tides are heavy and threatening now
to pour their all into passageways choked and blocked
with timbers, wedged wet wood
heavy, too unwieldy to move.  

The deck circles with familiarity, 
whirlwinding me: the eye, the centre
of this raging storm, anything but calm, anything but warm.

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