The
boats of Port of Le Havre pass like dreams
of
a woman, verdant blue and milky;
they
are flowing on salt air, still lapping
at
her shoulders in ripples of morning.
Long
roundabout way, she, astute, perceives
through
the mist, construction of the port dock,
from
inner cages, wild birds light on rocks—
the
way canaries peck dry, stoic seed,
is
the same way she drinks blue Oolong tea,
Opium
Hill, a steeping orange sun.
She
breakfasts on rye off the fishing boats,
with
pink marbled ham, slabs of white Comté,
the
way, in the cold water, fish tracks run,
the
nets canvassing the depths; silver loads
the
boat decks with thrashing, scaling bodies.
(sonnet sequences form this 15 line ekphrastic poem)
Art: Claude Monet: Impression Sunrise, 1872.
