Crown Island by Catherine Graham
by Steven McCabe
I am surrounded by Crown Island,
a weave of rock and sand; the waves
lap against me, sizzling white strings.
On my head sits the appointed crown,
stapled and fastened, now part of my mind.
My earrings of polished tin
take in the sun, moon, rain.
Each mirrored wave of a wave under water.
Someone must see to the world below.
I ask the sky. I flash at the Northern Lights,
twisting their capes like kaleidoscopes.
Black clouds cloud the black.
I shovel up the sea to check beneath the blue.
I’m looking for white wounds.
The cold is quick. Quick, enter me.
after “Ice Maiden” by Dorothy Molloy
from Her Red Hair Rises with the Wings of Insects, Wolsak & Wynn
Author of five poetry collections, Catherine Graham teaches creative writing at the University of Toronto School of Continuing Studies. www.catherinegraham.com