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？