A Plague Of Lighthouse-Keepers:(iv) S.H.M.
( Hammill )
"Unreal, unreal" ghost helmsmen scream
and fall in through the sky,
Not breaking, through my seagull shrieks:
no breaks until I die.
The spectres scratch on window-slits
hollowed faces, and mindless grins
only intent on destroying what they've lost.
I crawl the wall till steepness ends
in the vertical fall;
My pain has sailed into the sea -
no joking hopes at dawn!
White bone shine in the iron-jaw mask
Lost mastheads pierce the freezing dark
and parallel my isolated tower...
no paraffin for the flame -
no harbour left to gain.
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