Far from the land, they had started to grow,

Far from complete, around the line of sky.

The boat edged across the circular bay

As loud as a circular saw

Slicing a wake through metal.

The sea expired in silence; the islands

Shuffled and swam. The circle

Edged slowly to the west.

The pilot is the pivot

In the middle of a clockface.

The boat slides evenly as the hand of a clock

Measuring time at the edge of the water.

She still recalls how his face

Against the primrose light, the curve of his forehead

Bisecting the horizon, cut off

An hour, the first horizon.