The Sunken Lightship

Sound Buoy It presidesOver our passing In and outOf the Bogue Narrows. We riseFrom sea gulliesAnd watch it swayTo a mindlessHumping of waves.In soft seas Its moansAre more our own.If I name itRed Nun of the Narrows,The pleasure won't last,For it turns unruly at a whimAnd will outlast our coming And going.Once, alone,In wild weather, I feltThe wallow and topple,The fit of its colorIn close thrashes, My tongueSalted and stunnedInto a silenceThat burned. (c) BOA Editions, Ltd 1990