What of the sailor doomed
On doldrum seas? Is she
The lesser captain who
Wills the Wind Within gust
When the wind wills ill hush?
Her quiet fight at night,
One of calculation,
Many bearing-takings,
Bad nightly monologues,
And her dazed will to row
Home: no tempest-taming.
“Yet, yet,” slaps the water
Under-oar, and the cold
Stars above grin like cons
Cheating death again and
Forever, hallelu