Salt Stains

1.
Born of a homesick sailor’s one night stand,
Alice was raised in just two arms.
Since age four
days found her with flat stones
between her fingers
skippin’ ‘em from the sand towards
the crease of the world and sky.

Nights came often
when she responded politely
to easy icebreakers and her socks lay
quietly on strangers’ cluttered floors.
It was no surprise to anyone when a sailor left town
leaving her with another life to milk
and more shit to take care of.

2.
Born of a homesick sailor’s one night stand,
Michael was raised in just two arms.
Schoolyard dust clouds often arose from his side
as he found himself at the feet of his peers.
When the hour bell rang and the bike racks were at his back
he explored industrial corridors ‘till dusk.
It was there the corridors of his past lay naked.

Nights came often
when his lungs puffed up like sails
and he stuck his arms up like masts in surrender.
His bow told lies of comfort and confidence
and white flags were too often flown,
while his cabins held junk dragged home
from the warehouses he ventured by night.

3.
Born of a distant sailor’s lonely wife,
Robert was raised with the sea.
The wakes left by his father did nothing
but beckon him, and his path was early set.
When the shipyard bell rang and the ropes were thrown
he took off towards another coast.
He had been gone six years when a telegram busted open his chest.

Where most boys get their fathers’ eyes,
or their ears, or their loud sneezes,
Robert got his father’s restless feet.
It was inscribed in his genes from day one
to up and go without cause.
It was inscribed in his genes from day one
to leave.

4.
Dear Robert comma

I have had six birthdays since we last spoke stop
But this home has had twelve stop
He has your eyes
and your ability to disappear without shame stop
He turns seven in October stop
His name is Michael stop

Love comma
Alice stop