Eric: The Modern Mariner

We were one and we were three, parlez-vous.
We set out in the azure sea, parlez-vous.
New water boldly lapped and loathed
the conquest of the false betrothed,
inky, dinky, parlez-vous.

No life there was but we, parlez-vous,
upon a darkened sea, parlez-vous.
We rigged our sail of morning light
and split in two the virgin night,
inky, dinky, parlez-vous.

We ruddered for we knew not what, parlez-vous,
but deep into the darkness cut, parlez-vous,
leaving the womb to close behind
unpon the finite, mortal mind,
inky, dinky, parlez-vous.

Although the loss we two deplored, parlez-vous,
and cried aloud, "Man overboard!" parlez-vous,
we were not to ourselves restored,
but onward, helpless, off we soared,
inky, dinky, parlez-vous.


(Valley of the Water of Life, Rountable Poets of Hot Springs, 1981)