Boy oh
boy you destroy me.

Even as I squint you out, you bear
no tint or uncertain
shade, just the undeniable colour
of the sea, the same Captain Hook
buccaneering through relentless
Tinker Bell magic. This time

there are prisoners,
and he leaves them blindfolded
at the surface of the sea, clown
sharks circling at the breath

of their toes. There is no
second thought.

Little time
is left to capture the
new Peter Pan before he
learns the meaning
of being lost

and found. The Captain’s
hands quake at the wheel.

I can only see the words
behind the his eyes,
the same vague strings and
awkward signs I blink

when I am seasick, opening
my throat to the tide, salty,
chapped lips, cauldron pupils
reflecting an endless,
certain green.