O Weary Sailor
For Austin
at night I hear the rested waves awaken stretch their arches
across one another open their throats and roar
o weary sailor out there amongst the phantasmagoric fog
against the brush of the moon’s backhand
do you think of me o weary sailor do you think of us
of our names whispered along the sea breeze
of our feverish need carried out by the crash of the tides
reaches o weary sailor can you hear those waves
their mighty call to us lapping their wet tongues along
the edges of our distance the space between
want and have o weary sailor take your ear to the water’s
surface listen out for its salty voice
as it carries my longing to you tells you of how I must bow
and recede once the sun flexes its smile
I Don’t Blame You
I don’t think or
perhaps I have lost the idea
of blame lost the care to look back
and think of how different
it could have been when I dropped
your hand to the seat and said
I think we should move
downstairs as if I had some
spectral sense of what was to come the
eggs the shouting the fists of
young boys one against your eye
as the blood began to run the
pushing of them as if I had seen
the fear that would grip us
every time we stepped onto a bus sat
watching the faces their movements as we
sought out the maybes
in the crowd. allowed the
paranoia to sneak
into our minds like nesting spiders
as we sat and cried
about how we hate to have to
leave home and I don’t blame you
but you said
let’s stay where we are
Dale Booton is a twenty-six year old queer poet from Birmingham. His poetry has been published by Verve in their Diversity anthology, Untitled: Voices, Re-Side, and The Poetry Society. Most recently, his poetry has been featured by Ligeia, Queerlings, Fahmidan, and Tealight Press.