The waves reared up behind us,

with the look of polished stone.

The white wake streaming behind it,

a reflection of dead men’s bone.

 

My hands had felt the slash of her fangs,

my muscles the lash of her tail.

My eyes, red rimmed, from lack of sleep

and storms to make a heart quail.

 

She slept in my bunk, wore my boots

and stole my dry socks away.

Her mildew grew on food and clothes,

where the Wave Goddess held her sway.

 

My fingers were cramped to painful hooks.

Torn nails and split lips too.

And all for a cup, a silver cup;

the strange things that men will do.

 

Then out of the West, a great white bird

soared over the cruel wave.

And she listened to him, the albatross,

for ’twas me he’d come to save.

 

Oh great white bird, I love you so

as you deftly wing over the sea.

And I hope you will stay, to help in my quest

for that “Grail” which still eludes me.

David Garlick, Maui, July, 1992