We will save ourselves on the ferry.
It is getting ready to take off.
The laggards skip and speed up.
Trying to get close to the boarding ramp.
Some will dive into the drink.
Chasing the boat out beyond the straight.
Those people will swallow salt water and disappear,
beneath the low drippy waves.
The rest will wait on the shoreline.
As if to get the last little glance of the vessel vanishing.
Makeshifts shelters and desperate chanting.
For they didn't make it in time.
The last of the voices are silenced,
restless midnight murmurs.
They know to hush.
As things that can't be named roam the land.
Tracking us down by the demons in our heads.
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