Ahab

The creak of timber
Coupled with the lashed
Slap of splayed wave,
The men’s billowing white cries

Coupled with the lashed,
Lashing tongue of ivory—the
Men’s billowing white cries and
Hands, snagging at rigging, the

Lashing tongue of ivory
Curls within its black cloaked mouth, his
Hands, snagging at rigging, the
Sound of his voice is the storm. It

Curls within his black cloaked mouth, his
Teeth bite through the rain. The
Sound of his voice is the storm, his
Hands are lightning across the wheel, and his

Teeth bite through the rain. The
Men’s cries fill the sails and his
Hands are lightning across the wheel, and his
Good leg plants like stone.

Men’s cries fill the sails and his
Hands are the gale itself. The
Good leg plants like stone.
His fingers are knuckled clouds and his
Hands are the gale itself. The
Cupped mouth of the sea inhales,
His fingers are knuckled clouds and his
Eyes – their strained outlines.

The cupped mouth of the sea inhales,
The men’s cries rise to the topmast, and he
Eyes their strained outlines,
Battling the knotted rigging.

The men’s cries rise to the topmast, and he,
Gnashing his teeth,
Battling the knotted rigging,
Bays and howls, and they hear the

Gnashing of his teeth, the
Slap of splayed wave.
He bays and howls, and they hear
The creak of timber.

Lafayette, Colorado. ERIC WESTERLIND is opening the garage for the year, thank god, too, because sawdust is everywhere and the lawnmower has gone kaputz. Twenty-seven years, one hundred and forty pounds, several thousand dollars, a bike, a new helmet, a dog and a girlfriend. See: The Bacon Review.