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By Robert James Berry

Craggedness raised at me
The white rage of snow
My neck crick with looking up

Rockfaces glint quartz
and trees
Trees to mast and prow ships

The headlands part
Like knees opening

We're borne into ocean
Tacking north

At the sky's keel
The sun is bisected and
Hung like a bleeding rag

The stars tug our heels

Tomorrow the swell will frost
We shall plow splinters of ice
Men set like wolfhounds
For a wrinkle of coast

Our sharp seasick faces rigid
Till we have hunted and
Hauled on deck
The jawbone of north

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Document last modified on: 01/06/2007

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