Tuesday, September 4, 2018



 by Leonora Speyer

Fearless riders of the gale,

In your bleak eyes is the memory

Of sinking ships:

Desire, unsatisfied,

Droops from your wings.


You lie at dusk

In the sea’s ebbing cradles,

Unresponsive to its mood;

Or hover and swoop,

Snatching your food and rising again,




You veer and steer your callous course,

Unloved of other birds;

And in your soulless cry

Is the mocking echo

Of woman’s weeping in the night.

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