Small Room I Wave

Formed from glacier

like big fist descending

weird as worship Carved 

along invisible seams

and down it broke

I assembled some lighthouses along

absolutely crescent coast

“the geography of it,

the land falling off to the left”

an argument over who saw

the first light   (stone cats crouching)

now my poor legs wrestling w it

in my own queer separatist upbringing

was taught about the Fisherman see look there it is

body of the fisherman carved like a figurehead

the ship gives its own blessing 

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Note: This poem borrows a line from Charles Olson.