The Estuary
By day we pace the many decks of the stone boat and at night we are turned out in its high windows like stars of another side taste our mouths we are the salt of the earth salt is memory in storm and cloud we sleep in fine rigging like riding birds taste our fingers each with its own commandment day or night it is harder to know than we know but longer we are asleep over charts at running windows we are asleep with compasses in our hands and at the bow of the stone boat the wave from the ends of the earth keeps breaking W.S. Merwin |
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