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The Copper Panel Canal


There was no shelter from fists
No calming millpond wood
No whiff of willow's armour

The wind swung its drumstick
Water quivered like burnished brass
Polished by the midday sun

Tiny hammers danced on the surface
Making tight fists in the thick air
Nervous as pregnant cumuli

The bruised hollows of thin metal saucers
Cupped the imprints of a thousand
Furious savants of the summer sun

We moved so slightly as if the breath
Of the forger tickled the boat on its way
Lapping the hull with a copper gild

Each bright inch of calm was tapped away
Like the filigree of our love lacing
The memory of that day with trinkets

© David Incoll 2001


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Copyright by David Incoll 2001