To pull shut the sheltering hatch
and breathe
in serene convulsions
launching writing’s great dirigible
then to pull taut the harpoon
and squeeze the octopus squid
its tensed up tentacles
on the marble slab
or in the scales
is a violent business,
the brow writes itself, the world goes on,
the spirit level's bubble is decanted,
the gauze is frayed
after the phenomenology of oil tankers
the refinery,
the eyes of the night-guard fixed
on the storm and on the loneliness
of the CCTV.