New Poetry by Ashley Capes

gatefold sleeves

the oarsmen shout

and the crash of waves

echo in their mouths

through so much black

the moon drops closer

for a better look

their buttons taste like salt

and the bunch of muscles

reminds me of my father

working with his saw

at home mum is cooking

playing Hawkwind while

I look at the LP, discovering

gatefold sleeves

the boat rolls around and

across parts of the water

their gifts are reflected.

- Ashley Capes 2010