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Following Seas

Remember.
How the sunlight hit the mainsail just so.
The water sloshed good-naturedly between the hulls.
Van Morrison serenaded us
while the dented tin kettle sang
on the tiny harnessed stove.
An old man on shore stood waving to us
for the longest time.
Just stood there,
waving.

Remember
the fish we saw through our masks.
They looked like the drawings of a child
who had just discovered
colour.

Spent, slick with salt water,
we splurged on hot showers
and sang to one another across the deck.
Later
we lay at the bow for hours,
fetching tea in turns,
wondering
how could one night
possibly
hold so many stars.
Remember.

Cooper Island, BVI

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Writer and Poet

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Tricia McCallum

Always be a poet. Even in prose.
Charles Baudelaire.

In essence I am a storyteller who writes poems. Put simply, I write the poems I want to read.[…]

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