The Things I Want

 

Shiver me. I used to—no, I still do—
love pirates

The kerchief and gold hoop earring,
bang and flash

of the cannon. It is a pose
I suppose, an

ear for shanties, a sip of rum
to leech because

piracy goes on and on like the
sea. Don’t wave

goodbye to the waves. We need to ride
that ship with

bones and skull, the smile in my most
desperate

sleep. No, I have never met one and
doubt I ever

will nor pirate anything myself.
The things I

want are tropes.

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