Harbor

Harbor

She weaved out to the harbor
Born of bad blood and
The baddest seed - through the weathered
Skeletal piers of contemplation -
Navigating -
This is where the rainbows end.
There was a ghostly angel imprint
In the clouds, looking down on her, or
On the sea - swear she could
The distance spy a staircase to
That piece of sky.
But what, if not a purpose met,
The meaning held colloquial -
As in some distant conversation
Or constellation
Or revelation
Never blew her horn in anger -
And now the fog consumes.

2004 KV
Fresh today and unpublished