Drogue drift

 Drogue Drift

Johnclarestokes 

You could call it the bitter end 

of the rope

the point beyond where the fire

fused the strands

the unraveled part that did not

go through the ring

In the taunt the line turns astern

in a vertical load the lift

as the sea claw is freed

then a straight yaw as the

drift begins 

Into the beam sea they go with

memories of mooring

Above the laughing terns

mock the folly

In cabin crafts they ply on

in dead reckoning 

Paying the price of anchors rejecting.