Ships
        by Sarah Elizabeth Hume




   We are the ships
   passing on a starless night,
   when silver refuses to intertwine with darkness.
   We are the ships
   whose hides have been ripped,
   floating on a sea salted from a cellar
   the size of the sky.

   Our wounds are relentless,
   our blood has been spilled,
   we have forgotten what it is to know of love,
   of one another.

   Forage on,
   sails floating in the wind of deception
   and perhaps on our journey
   we may again meet,
   when the dawn is filled with gold
   and our wounds have finally closed...