(For Peter Huxter, 1925 - 2010)
Dad, these pillows are the front of our boat;
let’s make some strong ribs and a sturdy keel,
so stretch the blankets and tuck them like this,
then wrap your arms around all watertight,
to keep us safe from rocks and hidden reefs,
and clogging weed slithering down our sides.
Stow away old jumpers down by our feet
and leave room for biscuits and tins of fruit.
Be my best friend Queequeg, I’ll be Ishmael,
but don’t trail your hands nor dip your toes,
remember, there might be hammerheads!
If all is calm on the South China Sea;
when seabirds softly call and the stars come out,
we’ll lie up on deck and I’ll trace the Plough
in the countless moles that dot your soft pale skin.
And as the Pequod bravely bobs along,
lulled by the lapping mid-ocean waves,
I’ll close my eyes and the stars will fade.
And I know, like all our other voyages
your watertight arms will slowly unwind
and you’ll quietly leave, wading like Neptune
through the sea mist until you reach the shore,
taking the gulls and flying fish with you,
and the boat becomes a bed once more.
Martin Huxter was the winner of The 3am Project Open Call, (Writing Category).
