Three Poems from Rungholt

long ago

1. The Pig`s Head

O lard the porcine god

floods our souls,

under beer we bend

roughed backed before

the head that is not cold,

surprised eyes not gentle.

The real one has fled the rain,

steps in mud break our secret.

The tide might remember.

The moon fierce and scolding.

2. Salt

Scour the pits of saline gut,

fish open like a lust cut.

Strain the turf.

The near sea of salt twins

will cool our palms with

the coins of lost waves.

Dumb the salt pulse.

3. The Church under the Sea.

Perfect under the glass ebb

but not silent.

The Bell

calls us back to the church

of tide and sway,

to the sacrement of weed and silt.

Deep we seek our service.