New
Zealand's only postatomic poetry magazine
New
Zealand's only postatomic poetry magazine
 |
Calypso
had enjoyed her first afternoon on the liner. The towels beside the swimming
pool reminded her - absurdly - of prayer mats, and several waiters were
always busy , redistributing chairs. She read and reread the 'Collected
Letters', until it was obvious that the sunset had been indefinitely delayed,
that a grey sky and flattened ocean would have to suffice.
Perhaps she bottled that letter with the fairest intentions. Perhaps she imagined a real desert isle - three or four square leagues, described in periodic sentences - where a shipwrecked sailor pronounced his foot prints an illegible text, and stringed instruments were washed up instead of logs. |
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