Throwback Thursday: ‘Kilronan Harbor’ by Jeffrey C Alfier

Whether a shipmate’s Queen of Hearts tattoo,
aligned just above the tailbone, half hidden
by belt and waistline, is semaphore of desire’s
sliding scale, or just cardsharp love for a winning
ideogram, we turn toward the harbor sounds,
bell of the trawler we know as Andromache
– our own contending queen – and stand to flex
like outriggers the ache in our bones, rope burn
and muscle in the iron reach of the sea.

Outbound in the channel or returned to berths
that weigh our hours with the trust and faith
of those to whom we render the catch, we toil
at winch and windlass through worrying winter
tides. In port by day’s failing light, we rise
from below the wheelhouse, glove our way
through ice in the hold to crate the catch ashore,
finally shed oil frocks, indulge a hunger
for the vertigo of smoke and dark drink,
grateful for tomorrow’s sprawling sea, flourishing
yet through its unflinching wind and drudge,
all weather transcended, the pier our solid
foothold, each man hailing in low tones his brother’s
name, the sea’s frigid stain still on his hands.