Isle Joyeuse


by Aidan Andrew Dun

IJ TEN YEAH

Stretched out
on the world’s rim
suggestions
hints of land
murmur playfully
‘Sail on!’

Following winds
blow lazily
toward her:
Isle Joyeuse
streak of blue
far-off.

Dark blades
compasses
of desire
point to where
she fades
under a spell

Because she
is not to be
found at all
since fastest arks
lose way, lie
becalmed.

Then mark
just-audible
sounds of water
kissing in
slow-motion
sides of ships

Imitating
speechlessness
of lips
when madmen
know heaven
within reach

Magnetised
mistakenly
sailing with
no haven
beach
of sleep

Enchanted
on the deep
called life:
mariners
silent, all
disarmed.






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