dangerous waters


ocean surface spidered
with gossamer strands
scythe for a rudder
bluster for a breeze
these are dangerous waters
we sail though
where lies are woven
to craft a vessel
made to carry
a tired and desperate
ship of fools
far from the shore
to rest idle
in the doldrums
and bake in the sun
while the war machine
is taken out of storage
dusted off
and prettied up to turn

while the moon breaks
and we dismantle
the theory of tides
are we taking a journey
or just being taken for a ride
do we burn it all down
for lies about strangers
for the promise
of riches made
by well-suited bankers
and distributed down
by the laws of salvage

head pounding
thieves beating
my temples tonight
do we plunder ourselves
wearing a mask of fear
and only too late
recognize empty bravado
for what it really is

a loadstone
nothing more than
our own
death by misadventure



Words and Image: B. Reeves



  1. MC Clark · April 11

    Just want to say that you’re an amazing poet. I don’t just read your words, I feel them…feel the darkness slip inside, twist the knife, and deliver a beautiful hurt. You’re damn good, B.

    Liked by 1 person

    • B · April 11

      My favorite comment πŸ™‚ I write to a sound. All of these are fueling a bigger work of fiction. They all live and breathe bigger there. But they visit in these poems I love so much. Thanks a bunch πŸ™‚ kind of you to take the time to say.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. MC Clark · April 11

    You’re most welcome. πŸ™‚ I hope to someday read that “bigger work”.


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