Hidden in dawn shadows, she watches as his coat and boots hit the deck, shirt and belt following until he stands brazen before the sun.
With a dancer’s lean grace he makes his way along the bowsprit until, near the tip, he stops and finds his balance. Arms held wide to the breeze, a figurehead in bronze, he draws breath and waits...
Elizabeth finds she cannot breathe.
When he dives, it’s with spread wings and arched back, then, folding sleek as a gull, he cuts the Caribbean blue in silence.
Tethered by another’s destiny, Elizabeth yearns to fly as free.