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？