I wrote this villanelle for a uni portfolio – but it’s an ode to my wonderful friend Emma, and the August nights we spend on the balcony of her flat in North Wales, by the Irish Sea.
I wasn’t allowed to commandeer a fishing boat. So I settled for this one. I dubbed it ‘The Honey Badger’ …
How (Not) to be a Pirate
The sea-foam clouds are always gone by nine.
You tell me not to commandeer a boat
When we sit on your balcony drinking wine.
You think the souvenir ship should be mine,
Then I say: I doubt if it will float.
The sea-foam clouds are always gone by nine.
Weak ramshackle sails held up with twine –
We let the laughter tumble from our throats
When we sit on your balcony drinking wine.
I say I’ll take it home and make a shrine
To pirates, then you make a solemn toast.
The sea-foam clouds are always gone by nine.
The evening tastes of cigarettes and brine,
And cool air curls around us from the coast
When we sit on your balcony drinking wine.
Perseids, falling stars, streak by and shine.
The Universe itself knows us by rote:
The sea-foam clouds are always gone by nine
When we sit on your balcony drinking wine
I love your poem, Kate. Reminds me of my best friend in Canada. We use to sit on the balcony and talk until the early hours of the morning.
Thank you, Rita! It’s lovely to know when someone can relate to a poem