The Ecphorizer

Even when you arrived
weaned from wind
on faded maps
in an open boat
with a platform of fruit
by your seven cousins
the rivers dream
of a day such as this
in your large straw hat
hair of black spells
and tassels of oranges
of a great sorrow.

The waves foam
like prayer shawls
a coat of wings on a
map-blue shore
you follow the eye of gulls
circling labyrinth oceans
from open galleys
by lost coins, pomegranates, sails
and one lone poet.