White-Crested Sea

By Essie Martin

I am the sea, the furl of a single
Sail, alone, the wave who crests in white salt,

At the gyre’s spinning, nodular edge-
Taking me down down in brackish assault.

I am the deep-white gulls floating above

Waves, beating, thrashing, beside the shore,

Who’s song is dark-wind, tousling feathers

Gurgling throatily pining for more.

I am the whale who triumphs harpoon-odds-

Who breaches through the depths of indigo-love.

I am the one gazing through ebony-
At glazed window to a white crested sea

Yearning for ivory birds, and briny assault

Aching to be the indigo whale, free.