A Channel Passage

The damned ship lurched and slithered.  Quiet and quick

My cold gorge rose; the long sea rolled; I knew

I must think hard of something, or be sick;

And could think hard of only one thing — YOU!

You, you alone could hold my fancy ever!

And with you memories come, sharp pain, and dole.

Now there's a choice — heartache or tortured liver!

A sea-sick body, or a you-sick soul!

Do I forget you?  Retchings twist and tie me,

Old meat, good meals, brown gobbets, up I throw.

Do I remember?  Acrid return and slimy,

The sobs and slobber of a last years woe.

And still the sick ship rolls.  'Tis hard, I tell ye,

To choose 'twixt love and nausea, heart and belly.