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Si  la mar era de leche…

 

If the sea was made of milk
And the boats were floating cinnamon
I would plunge myself in deep
Save the honour of my band of silk

If the sea was made of milk
I’d be fisherman rather than fish
Fishing for my lacteous sorrow
With the barbed wishes of love

In mid-seas stands a tower
In the tower sits a window
In the window lies a girl
Who has swooned for a sailor’s love

Dove give me your hand
Haul me into your soft nest
Bad luck to sleep solo lay my head love
Next to your cooing neck

one

If the sea was made of milk
And the boats were floating cinnamon
I would bring it to the boil
And spoil your Sabbath meal at sundown

If the sea was made of milk
I’d be fisherman rather than fish
Keeping my head above water
Buttery boots kicking in curds and whey

In mid-seas stands a tower
In the tower sits a window
In the window flashes the reflection
Of the creamy filmy waves

Dove give me your hand
Haul me into your soft nest
The night is getting stormy
Noah seeks your milky breast

two

I would bring it to the boil
And spoil your Sabbath meal at sundown
The poison of my love sprinkled
In the dish you will never finish

Keeping my head above water
Buttery boots kicking in curds and whey
I will tread the cheese of hatred!
I’ll stamp on your lover’s head!

In the window flashes the reflection
Of the creamy filmy waves
Eruptive sea-spouts of helpless passion
Wash the wrinkles from my waiting

The night is getting stormy
Noah seeks your milky breast
Flood drains from a soured land
God has put  our love to test

three

I would plunge myself in deep
Save the honour of my band of silk
I would risk the transformations
Of the yoghurt of the oceans

Fishing for my lacteous sorrow
With the barbed wishes of love
I’d snap the angler’s line my rod
I would strangle each Behemoth by hand

In the window lies a girl
Who has swooned for a sailor’s love
But I rise half fish to her half bird
And lift to her wing my spreading fin

Bad luck to sleep solo lay my head love
Next to your cooing neck
Lay my milk-leaky gills on your hot fluttery feathers
We’ll leap free to my hybrid deck

27th July 2002