She sings a storm,
crushing the ship,
the sweet delirious blue
of sea moaning a raw lathered beat.
And then the moon’s smooth beauty
dresses the sky with light. . .
and if licks these rocks
(lazy-tongued) through purple mist
I visited the Oracle yesterday, but I didn’t have a chance to post. If you’re keeping track–I did a few word shuffles, but “if” showed up right at the beginning.