I had to take a break from the narrative poems for a while. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to meet my goal in April. I started working on a third narrative poem right after I finished the second one. But, I had to scrap that one and ended up with “James, John, and Davy Jones’s Locker” instead. It took longer than I would have liked, but that’s okay. Especially, since I was able to be productive in other ways instead.

Title

“James, John, and Davy Jones’s Locker”

Synopsis

James recalls his short-lived relationship with John when they were both pirates aboard “The Siren’s Vengeance.”

Every morning, at the break of dawn,

James goes to the window

and he casts a prayer out to the sea.

It always begins

with the protection

of Davy Jones’s locker.

Every night, once the light begins to wane,

James goes to the window

and he closes out his prayer to the sea.

In the time between,

he thinks of John and

nothing but John.

John was the worst crime he ever committed.

They were both crew members

of “The Siren’s Vengeance”

many moons ago.

Until one day, it all went belly-side up.

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Sunshine sneaks through the clouds

and warms James’s face.

He leans against the central mast

of “The Siren’s Vengeance”

and inspects John’s every move.

He’s never noticed a single flaw.

It’s been months of wandering

the museum of John.

He finds himself memorizing

every detail with his eyes

so that later on,

he can transfer the desire through his hands

like a branding iron.

But, John is a museum

and nothing in a museum

can ever be touched (or owned, for that matter).

Sweat pools at the base of his neck

when he witnesses John’s eyes

darkening. His questions are answered

with each slow blink of those cat eyes.

He shoves his clammy hands

deep into his pockets, trying

to revitalize his chalky tongue.

Meanwhile, the maelstrom of his heart

threatens to blow him up.

John winks— the action frayed

and worn at the edges.

James counts to ten before

joining him in the living quarters.

The two of their bodies sway

in their respective hammocks,

and their cheeks flush from

muffled grunts and choked gasps.

All the while, their eyes

remain locked from across the room.

Hands move as one.

John is the ventriloquist,

while James is nothing

more than his eager dummy.

Once James realizes

just how far gone he is,

he breaks the eye contact—

ignoring John’s coaxing.

The influence John has over him

is dangerous to say the least.

Being near John is like

playing with a guillotine

and never knowing

if the blade will drop.

James is still lightheaded

from the adrenaline, when John

suggests they go to the galley.

He follows John

as only his shadow could.

They don’t realize the captain

notices their strange behavior

and follows them into the galley.

James and John speak in hushed sighs,

fantasizing about their future

when a voice barges in through the door.

“What be the two o’ ye doin’ in ‘ere?

Only the cook be permitted in the galley

when supplies be scarce.”

James swallows and looks to John

before turning to face the captain.

“Eh—I, uh—” he rubs his thumb

over his index finger.

“What’s the matter with ye lad?”

James is fixated by the tiny face

staring back at him from the captain’s cutlass.

Its eyes are wide and unblinking

as it is getting closer and closer.

“Answer me ye bilge-sucking scurvy dog!”

The captain’s alcohol-soaked breath

sends the hair on the back of

James’s neck in every which direction.

Frigid metal glides across his cheek

and his mind takes him to Davy Jones’s locker.

It’s nothing but water, rotten souls,

and an eternity of regret.

He chances another glance at John,

noticing his dull eyes and sunken cheeks.

It was the one time

James found him unattractive.

That dreaded underwater tomb

flashes through his mind again.

“Well, uh—uh, you see…”

He looks down at his feet,

steeling himself. How can he choose

between John and his own life?

The captain’s face is growing

redder and uglier by the minute.

It’s now or never.

“John stole me gold doubloons.

So, I followed ‘im ‘ere to corner ‘im—”

settling into the lie, his voice gains strength,

“—when I caught ‘im takin’

an extra servin’ o’ grub.”

“Be that there so?” The captain’s sneer

turns away from James

and his stomach loosens

into pudding, until the sneer turns to John.

“What do ye ‘ave to say about these accusations?”

John locks eyes with James

and stands tall, without wavering.

“‘Tis true.”

James has never found him

more attractive—

all trust and surrender.

Their crew mates tie John

to the central mast

and James recalls all the times

he would lean against it to watch John.

Now John was the one leaning

against the wood for support,

with his eyes never leaving James.

A man made of flaws,

sweat pools at the base of his neck

when he witnesses the glistening

of John’s eyes at the first strike

of the cat o’ nine tails.

John winks and James hears

the echo of muffled grunts and

choked gasps from just a few feet away.

James can’t tear his eyes away,

even though being near John

is like playing with a guillotine.

At nightfall, the blade finally drops.

It may have landed on John,

but James feels it just the same.

He unties John and drags him

to the edge of the plank.

Their bodies move as one,

teetering with the waves.

James caresses his face,

pressing his lips against the cold

flesh of the perfect lips—

belonging to the perfect man—

before surrendering his heart

to the sea below, where it will rest

in Davy Jones’s locker—

where there’s nothing but water,

rotten souls, and an eternity of regret.

The End

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I hope you enjoyed the story! Thank you for taking the time to read it! Please let me know what you thought about it. Feedback is always appreciated.

Check out “Orphaned Rosary” (my previous blog post) by clicking the link under the email list sign up form!

Also, if you’re interested in checking out my debut poetry collection Juniper, you can find it here.