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.
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