Home for Aged and Decrepit Sailors

Ceramic was the tile,
in pieces it described 
the ship, the sea,
horizon light-
that curve between
the eye and mind.

Old men gathered
at the sailor home,
rock beneath cut glass and tile,
recollect a world by pieces-
each a boxed set
of ceramic tiles.

Hazy eyes mark the walls-
the easy curl 
of wind and wave-
recall the world
before such lines
divided colors of the day.



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