A Vision (Eliot Cardinaux)

  A Vision

That the world is cold,
simply put, I can endure,
but that is not so simple;
fortune, fortune, away,
fate, fate –

melancholy fire,
disentangle these veins
grown thin with time,
disperse these aching limbs in motion –

I am not a foul man,
reaching for the wicked parts of men,
dust that shudders,
settle to the floor;

this ship flying flagrant into night’s eye,
the midnight sun, grows bright, too bright for me to gaze upon.
And none of this will cave
into the sea as ice which dulls

and were it not
what spectacle would haunt this night?
(O galleon of treasures rotten, sunk
amongst the weirdest creatures of the sea.)

                         
                             January 14^th, ’11