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. Tattered glass

    at rub on sunblind margin. 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？