Departure
Thomas Leonard Shaw
The ship departs at 225
If you are a minute late
The latch will slam into your face
Blood and tissue a moment of contortion
If you are two minutes late
You will make it to the end of the steps
Unable to step down before the ship separates
Your longing now measured in meters
If you are three minutes late
The boat will already be roaring in the water
Clockwork and fuel learning the sound of ignition
The tragedy becomes a story of disavowal
If you are four minutes late
It will already be racing around the corner
The islands learning to embrace movement
The sound of tears a reminder of drowning
If you are five minutes late
There will be nothing for you to see
Except for water smashing on land
And ripples tracing imaginary wounds and cuts
