- Iron Brims Poem by Georgios Venetopoulos

I knew the dancing drops on glass, at night
and how dispersing is their icy sting;
the Northern ranges' snowstorms cling
amid December grays and our hindsight.

The beacon beamed inside its ebon frame;
the maiden's song returned to years before
our ancestors have drowned linking o'er
unending scopes; pristine her ancient name.

I saw the orchard, in the distance, ebonize,
along the windy wharf and foamy coast,
my soul's betrothment and imperfect host
where spinning, versing in the wind advice.

The maiden's pass is grooming my recall
and ceremonial attends the fair,
the falling mizzle dances on glassware
impermanent the passage of her Sol.

The marginal instructions - academes,
that blurry beckon, blinking smiles
we, freighter sailors, have become exiles
to celebrate upon the iron brims.

Descending light and westward flare
dethaws her image yon horizon's lines
- erstwhile my life submerged in brines
and her evanescent celestial stare.