Cape Wrath

(i)
Dark moon
Cape Wrath

Am Parbh in Norse
The Turning Point

The turning point east
The turning point home

Oh! the welcome change in rhythm
and the welcome change in song

Homeward bound! Homeward bound!
Homeward fucking bound my fucking brothers!
Homeward bound!

I can taste the sweet and salty crevices of my missus
within the sea spittle that stings my split and scabby lips
oh! how her fertile scent
sings and dances upon my hungry tongue

(ii)
In the middle of the night
the winds switch source
and my safe, still hollow of sleep
within the lee of a long granite wall
is ripped open
by a new and wild north-westerly
which pits its wits against the grumpy fog of my sleepy head
until I muster a surrender to its hectic summons

Unzipping myself from my warm and familiar cocoon
I stumble out half naked into a bewildering night
and four recurrent, insistent shafts of lighthouse light
scanning the sea with faithful, rhythmic, penetrating power

Beneath the fog horn’s silent trumpet mouth
I perch and hunker against the Siren call
of wind and cliff and sea
trusting neither the balance of my body nor the balance of my mind
in the face of such elemental indifference

(iii)
Later, re-cocooned in sleep
an eagle tears its talons through the canvas of my dreams
wings as strong as sailor’s rope
her tail fanned and tipped with the sea's white foam

As long as you do not know who you are, she cries
You will always view the world
through the anxious eyes of the hunted