Bronze Age boat
Ancient oak, stitched with yew,
sealed with beeswax and plugged with moss.
Aboard its planks, voyagers launched –
curious, hungry – into the waves.
Waterlogged and packed with silt,
the earth devoured the vessel whole.
Millennia passed; buildings grew.
Then a skylight opened above.
Hauled from the underworld it rose,
carefully split; quickly submerged.
Silently it sits behind glass,
dimly lit, holding its breath.
Lucy Dixcart is a copywriter by trade and has recently returned to poetry. She has an MA in Creative Writing.