a murderous poem by Zachar Laskewicz



A nautical poem by Zachar Laskewicz


One day my wife wanted to sail on my boat;

And although it has holes

It mostly can float…


Selma, my wife, she does love to eat

Be it cakes, stew or roast

(and all kinds of meat).

She insisted herself to sail out to sea
‘t-was the boat, sails & tackle,

My fat wife and me.


The storm it arose like a mythical beast

My wife was the worry

The storm was the least


Wind turned the boat with Selma stuck under

I flew off the bow

My feet flying asunder.


This tale I retell with no second mirth

Compared to my boat,

Selma had a far wider berth!


So when the boat turned, Selma pinned under,

I had to free her quickly

despite the storm and thunder


With my dear Selma free from under the boat

I could see she would sink;

She just wouldn’t float!


After dragging her heavy weight alone to the coast

I  lugged her ashore

‘Cos she mattered the most.


Now with my son we mourn what couldn’t float

She sank like a stone,

So I just saved the boat!



By Zachar Laskewicz
18 June 2014

*A statement against the gendering of objects without grammatical function.





May 2008 Nachtschimmen Music-Theatre-Language Nightshades, Ghent (Belgium)
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Last modified:
16 May 2013


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