I knew you in the deep soft silences
between the staggered chimes and tocks and ticks
of all those clocks you lived with, tended, wound.
I don’t recall the room, only the sound
and unexpected closeness, which was odd,
coming after weeks cooped up, on board.
We sailed a thousand ocean miles together
shared a shifting deck, night watch, bad weather;
led a fading wake across the Channel;
found wild wind off Africa, that funnelled
strong and warm between volcanic crags.
We stirred up phosphorescence, felt its magic.
Our courses crossed. I trust we both have marked
The point of intersection on a chart.