Black Swells

I watched the black swells grow from the prow And the stars hung above us in the black blanket of night I closed my eyes and on the lids Visions of blood and light I killed my man on a lonely night And still hear his voice on the wind With a rush of scent from an olive bow Sent from the land, so dim Not with my hands so soft and fair Not with an arrow or bow But with the black, blunt blade he gave me Did I let his blood flow