Bitch of a ladder.
Tiny and impractical.
Mother, sister voiced the pointlessness
resting on uncushioned seats
complaining of apocalyptic joint pain.
The captain commiserated impatiently
his wife the Medium was waiting.
The stairs down, narrow almost non negotiable.
We bumped our heads & wailed.
Mother fell into the Medium’s larger chair,
wouldn’t move. “I am sitting here!”
The small boat rocked in somnolent mood.
A fog or misery mist hung down too low.
The Medium groaned, dealt a few tarot cards.
Pausing, she couldn’t sense any spirits close.
There would be no refunds.
She eventually acknowledged our sincere threats
with reference to The Coast Guard Of The Eternal.
A substantially larger boat took us to shore.
Endeavoring to neutralize the Medium’s hand curses,
we held up three of our own as the fog dispersed.

– Colin James