Rough nights…a Sunday Whirl
Another brilliant group of words in this week’s Sunday Whirl.
How can a girl resist? Thank you Brenda!
Port anchor wake pitch marrow link stern rail sink navigate deck store
The pitch of the sky
A fish-scale gray,
Gull’s wings gray,
Swimming or flying
anchors the ship
Holds it in place
Roofing it over from port to stern
Rail in the man
Seal him off from colour and life
A lamp in each hand.
Navigate from one end of the chain to the stars.
The blue window of morning, a link between the varnished deck and the stairs that go down lower than the mast.
Because there is a sea between the land and the man and the unfolded night that stops the noise.
There is the sun’s wing that divides the wind and the wake.
The two leaves of the window open on the creaking horizon
Sink it down
A slipshod night to store the memories
Escape and trample on the marrow of the man
The stars fall on one side