The Masthead

The Masthead
 
This place
I rest
becalmed
above
habitual chores
horizon-blind
seduced
back to myself
by luxury
of time and temperature
the liquid air
the solid sea
the singularity
of elements,
and love,
 
and loving,
lose myself
in sea and air
and oak plank
so that falling
would not bring
horror, memory
of me me me
rushing up
to smash or swallow.
 
In fact
 
I dream
I will not fall
will not forget
this cellular
seduction
this reveille
played through
hexagonal hearts
of
hydrogen
and
oxygen
and
carbon
miraculous
call to arms
that hold
everything
all at once
the silly
gravity
of love. 
 
Sherry Robbins, Or, the Whale, BlazeVOX [books]

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