Poem of the week
IT started with a sharp order
splintering across the wooden deck,
and the leather-jerkined crew
left steaming guns,
forgetting the French,
and sun winked at sea
as Henry stood, on the beach
watched men line up, starboard side,
and under their weight the boat bowed too,
slowly at first,
then keeled
as ocean invaded open gun ports
chased across lower decks, tore
cannons from chains,
then sailors jumped into waves,
fast as bathers at a holiday park
despite the watching king,
until only a slim black mast
was above water
tilted shoreward,
still obeying the order to salute.
Mary Charman Smith