Shadowmaker

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Circe 426

rivers lurch seaward
the nose can judge its distance
farther farther where are we going?
a navy passes outside my window
on its way to present itself to
the lonely south
walking damned creep into the fog
creep into the night
knowing only the mirror
a portrait of stagnant stare
a convex snake
leaping to reach a higher light
but expiring in the fumes of the custom-house.
Slowly slowly arise appearing
the larger jet of night
a swaying wing a finger,
a portrait grin a foretaste of a dream
a beauty without mercy.