Sails
I viewed in my presenceMy hand on my foreheadAnd sighting the linersOf mad merchant seamenIn search of the livingOr the spices of China
Lucy walked gentlyBetween the damp barrelsAnd shut out my eyesWith the width of her fingersSaid she'd guessed the numberOf bales in the back room
While the seagulls were screamingLucy was eatingThen we hauled up our colorsThe way the mother had told usAnd together we just watched the sails
Lucy I saidIn a passage of cotton kegsCan we hold handsI'm sure that it's warmerThen the gulls ate the crumbsOf Lucy's sandwich