A Saga of Circumnavigation
In our Viking long boat on Belle Isles lee side
emerged from the Canadian Mist
to pillage outdoor jazz at the Roberts Hotel
strike fear into the hearts of diners
on the terrace of the Rattlesnake Club
coxswain berserk in the stern
urges us on in hoarse Old Norse.
But this goat head skull cap keeps
inching down with every stroke to rest
on the bridge of my nose plus
I’m dying to let go
the oar to get at the itch
between my shoulder blades
cursing Odin these prickly marten pelts.
Yet, once we round the point off Scott Fountain
To fight the current and take a moment
to wonder what the Canadians
off to port are having for dinner
the Algoma Equinox loaded with grain
down bound for Baie Comeau
shoulders us aside, a mere water strider.