Barnacled hulls passing that clouded night

Illuminated only in the passing fire of broadsides;

The incoherenced barks of men;

The wet solidarity of our drowned.


In the yards, coarse stevedores remake us

Board by board, wounded and weathered alike replaced:

The captain as well as the cooper,

The surgeon as well as the cook.


If we mates spied each other again today

It would be as fellow admirers of admirals’ monuments;

As port-bound whalers rowing to a gam;

As a squadron in the commodore’s harbor parade.


Joseph Byron Bennett

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s