Some of the best poems you'll read - Perigee

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"Small Boats at Aveiro" (from a painting set in Portugal by Peter Rogers, Nahant marine artist) by Tom Sheehan They sit at Aveiro by the river's mouth, Their bows scattered as compass points, Small scoops on an interminably huge sea Rising to the ever imagined yet illumined line Of sight where the gallant Genovese Fell off the known world. They are not Deserted, though faintly cold for oarsmen Who walk down this beach behind me, Stomachs piqued and perched with wine, Salted hands still warm with women, mouths Rich of imagery and signals. Sons are left Who later come down this beach To these small boats topping the Atlantic, Gunnels but bare inches from the Father of Oceans, coursed to the stalked anchorage by thin ropes and a night of tidal pull. At Aveiro I stand Between commotion and that other, silence; Inhaling spills of kitchens, olla podridas Riding the ocean air with a taut ripeness, Early bath scents, night's wet mountings And varieties peeled and scattered to dawn, And see boats move the way sea and earth Move against a distant cloud. I question hammer And swift arc that drove pared raw poles Of their moorings into the sea floor, picture A mustachioed Latin god laughing at his day's Work while waving to a lone woman on the strand; And see her, urged from kitchen or bed, in clothing Gray and somber, near electric in her movement And scale of mystery, eye the god eye to eye. Such is the mastery of eyes.
Inland, before dawn hits, An oarsman, tossed awake, knows an old callus where Atlantic sends his swift messages, for up through Toss of heel and calf, through thew of thigh And spinal matter, radiant in a man's miles of nerves, These small boats, gathered at Aveiro, Tell of their loneliness. >view as PDF< >next poem< >close window
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Some of the best poems you'll read - Perigee

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