- Vol. 01
- Chapter 12
Image by Rhona Byrne
Sea Mark“Here is my journey’s end, here is my butt,
And very sea-mark of my utmost sail.”
Is this the Moor, steering his vessel North,
a tenured look-out, peering at the sea?
A magus, solemn in his stony skirts,
topped with a priestly cape of sealing-wax?
Has he leaped down from frost and ice
to guide the lonely mariner, or mislead?
A candle with a stubby wick, a firework
or a perfumed bomb, innocently primed?
Or a work of art, the simulacrum
of a seaman’s reference point,
painted as a joke with one or two
unwanted tins of matt and gloss?