Admiral McTavish is leading his fleet
but his mind is elsewhere in the Atlantic Sea
back in the last port
back with his feet on the dock
the cold wind, the salt in the air
His wife’s blue eyes, icy,
silently admonishing him
for his sudden interest
in Lieutenant Junior Grade Jones,
now standing an arm’s length away
at the controls of the HMS Terrapin
while depth charges
slowly
descend
upon
them