It would seem, from the sound of it, slang
?In Her Majesty’s Navy, say, circa
?Trafalgar”the deckhand whose job was
?To heave-ho the anchor aboard,
?The chain like a slain sea serpent?
Collecting in coils behind him.
Or maybe a meteor fragment,
?Some glittery space-coal without
?Any real industrial uses”
?A novelty, anchorite, sold
?In the rock-box next to the quartzes
?At a science museum gift shop.
You would never imagine it wanted
?To sail in the other direction,
?A rare earth dreaming of heaven
?And pulling its rosary beads
?Like the links in a chain that leads
?To the sea floor, and the iron that anchors it.
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE
The Sinew of Diplomacy
The primal scene of A. Wess Mitchell’s formidable Great Power Diplomacy is a crisis meeting in Sparta…
When Rhetoric Becomes Reckless
Though it seemed to be an opening bid in a negotiation that, mercifully, ended in a provisional…
What the Wall Street Journal Didn’t Print
On March 21, the Wall Street Journal published a lengthy profile of the pope as its “Saturday…
