A crew of sailors was lost in a doldrum. Meaning a total absence of wind and tide, leaving them adrift on still seas. It's an ironic curse of growing increasingly more thirsty, surrounded by water. But after many days, one of the men felt a breeze and finally, looked up to fresh falling rain, to which he said "When those first few drops of rain hit my lips, I lapped at the air for more, and for a moment I forgot who I was..."
My hands now shake over parchment
Scribbling how parched I've been
My eyes drink the ink on your skin
And I salivate as the wind in your words stirs my men
Prayers for this holy fast
We drift through this desert and ask
For something to keep time that lasts
Aside from soft sand falling through your hourglass
My mind is pre-occupied
Like a city taken before it realized
How deep a need runs through mortal lives
This expedition is caught in your web like flies
Please, I beg of you
Desiring nothing save residue
The faintest taste of something cool
I am on my knees before your pool
Finally, a curled finger and sigh
Traces a taut line in my sails and I
Am pulled along the tide
To the river's mouth between two thighs
And when those first few drops of you hit my lips
I lapped at the air for more
and for a moment I forgot who I was
Opening quotation is from We, The Drowned by Carsten Jensen