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To the Ship’s Chandler from Paradise

By Marjorie Thomsen From Issue No. 4

my darling it’s raw here I’m in danger: my fib
my murmur my billet-doux

sent from the consummate slant
of a rock ledge glazed with grey salt

and bit of sea just so maybe perhaps
you’d describe your supplies

carry your contents your chandlery
your doses: whale oil, twine, lard,

chisel and mops. You said you’d bring
rope and cordage—headier than thread

you said you’d provide, hold a lantern
and tallow the bottom of my pretty boat

finish me with linseed oil
if only you weren’t afraid of water.

About Marjorie Thomsen More From Issue No. 4