Poetry

Now if the King of Kings is like a sea
Who fathoms all, Mary is like a fjord -
Tirelessly channelling his mercy,
In spray and swell exulting in the Lord.
Hail Mary ever.  And when the lagoon
Tops its banks with brine and fossil remains
And casts ashore the Trident of Neptune,
Hail the elder gods.  Betide the sea lanes
Between us and heaven spume churlish moiled
Tremulous waves, who'll see us to a bridge -
One that braces all walkers?  Undespoiled
Eulalia, saint of sailors.  When ridge,
Slope, shelf, slough their deeps and whitecaps burgeon
The Yo's! of drowned salts will gale the Virgin.