At Anchor, Las Cuevitas ~ A poem by Katy McKinney

At Anchor, Las Cuevitas

This is not one of those nights
when the empty wine bottle
will lurch from the table
then roll to the left, roll to the right
(for hours,) when the wind will play
the stays and shrouds, wail unearthly harmonics,
when the unlatched cupboards will spew their plates
to shatter on the floor.

This is not one of those nights
when we’ll listen for drug boats,
worry about being boarded.

On this night, Venus
will lay her wake on the water.
The ocean, for once, will hold itself still.
Invisible dolphins will circle the boat,
in the dark: only their breath.

Come below with me
to the nest we’ve made
of orange sheets and sweat.
Toss your salty clothes on the floor.

Climb into the cradle formed
by these slant wooden walls and my arms.

Kiss the fear from my lips.
Let the day sift from you.

On this night, the anchor will hold.

Katy McKinney

Katy McKinney lives in the Pacific Northwest for much of the year, and on a sailboat in Mexico for the remainder. She has published poems in a variety of print and online journals, as well as in several anthologies. She is the author of one book of poems, Fireproofing the Woods.

http://www.katymckinney.com

Photo credit @acastillejos at http://www.unsplash.com