The Lighthous & The Brine [sonnet]
If I was a lighthouse and you the sea
(evaporation’s salt reveals you are)
I’d warn the vessels on your waves to flee
and head for port — ignoring every star.
You stir up storms (though tempest is the word
[+ {yo}u and {o}us]) I’d use to style your tide.
On your bed, ugly life-forms darkly stirred;
the wrecks you dashed to bits have multiplied.
For when I trawl your lure (unfathomed deep)
there is no anchor — barely can one swim.
There was a time when in your brine I’d leap
but now across your surface I will skim.
So pound my rocks with all your typhoon force.
I’ll shine my lights; let nature take its course.
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© Alan Morrison, 2013
The Naked Troubadour 