THE TRANCE

The Trance

This is the screw

Turned clockwise into the deck;

You are now at liberty

To imagine the ship.

It’s navigation shall be up to you;

New Bedford is the connection.

There are the lad and lass:

Young, but unmistakably potent;

When the children work

With pins and bloody ribbon

The possibilities are endless:

These will be alluded to later.

As for you,

I see only the beclouded constellations

Specific to these latitudes.

Now you must center

On the brass threads of the screw

And the doughty teak plank:

A useful metaphor is found between.

One full turn and the ship is freed.

“Thus, on this day

After more than sixty

Becalmed in these dread seas

And much grief,

The Almighty hath granted a fine west wind.”

Of the children you suddenly remember,

One was burned as a witch,

The other hanged at sea.