In Skyship we ride the cloud-swell,Montana Sky

dark, bulging hull swinging low

and snow-white sails stacked up high

camouflaged on the round cumulus waves.

“Just another pillowy pile” the tale we sell

to the ground below

(who very much wants to believe our lie).

“A curious formation” says Earth to her slaves.

And we laugh at that,

oh you should hear us laugh at that–

the Captain and I–

rolling on the sun-spattered deck, blue sky

in our faces, guffawing and chortling

at our incredible success,

then peering down, watery-eyed

over the starboard side at the silly ground–

desperately bending the shapes

to fit what it knows:

that there is no ghost-ship,

only more blue beyond a queer floating cloudscape

that will surely change into something else

when the westerly wind

inland blows.


First published in THE MAGE.

This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s