Odysseus Before Scheria

But then the wave.  I hurled my arms skyward,

Then seaward in the surge—translucent chill—

To freeze inside a silent wall of salt:

Suspended in the membrane, I could spy

The sculpted rocks gripping a slippery shore

And, pulverized, the ancient shallow-stones.

Beyond them lay my bed; and, like a child

That struggles through its afterbirth, I cried.