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by Sarah Gridley
Besides the toss and drag of shells are you shown no proof
as to time lost here？
Same stamp on every morning. Tattered1 glass
at rub on sunblind margin2. No island roofs or goat-skinned rocks.
My stars
but you are travel-rank！
Cracked with offering. Your hands bear
what？ bow-spray？ mast-scrape？
Keel， stinging under silver weight.
what boats unloads your night？ Why do the waves
keep you in their shattered cloak？ Eyes each upon you
creaking pilot， pilot， pilot？
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