Her Monument She raced the wind, Looked toward a             shining needle, Flung her sails,             mending not one rent, (a promised port was  time enough to tend  a tear that only framed  a used not star) Abandoning that which             slowed her pace, Degreeing she would reach             the North by going South. Then at last, land met             waiting, watching sky. There was the shore. But breath blew, naught             her flapping skeletons. As far away as though She had not come (Those billion miles) But had instead Never known her Christendom. And before and all around             rose up the waves Whipped by beating, pounding             rain Tearing every shred of cloth Leaving timber fear. And when the holocaust             was spent Hot drying seen rotted             naked hull. That slowly sank             into the depths And left a nameless             galleon Anchored in the sea *

GC may '64