EARLY CROSSING

I remember I wept
when I first heard English English spoken
by a dockman in Plymouth Harbour,
after 14 days crossing the unmothering,
endless Atlantic. One February morning
the Gulf Stream played 3 cellos.
Next day banging against the bulkhead, I fell
on the icy deck. The ship wandered into
gigantic wave mountains, dirges ringing
in my ears, decks and lights sinking up
and rising down into valleys of death.
Heaven and hell awash, gigantic letter Bs
green, blue, black, white waters,
roaring echoes spelling BIBLE BIBLE,
I had to read backward to get my legs.