Blue below her and blue above
she moves out smooth
with only the smallest white objections
and goes about her business,

i watch her bulk to speck
and stow away in her figment,
sunset aft, moon on bow,
spray to spice intention,

what reefs and capes she rounds,
which harbour’s pleased to see her
set down her great red boxes,

a place i used to call
or somewhere yet to feel,
Bombay or Valparaiso.