Saul Bennett
31
Bridge, at sea, with a certain Father Healey, of Jersey City,
in the freighter saloon at 21 if not
a citizen of Rome, an anointed visitor,
viewing through his covert Confessor's
curtain an opponent/partner's grass-cut
silver cathedral dome attended by the thinnest
gold wire specs, above that imperturbable
collar, making for home, but not yet,
not before morning
and afternoon tea service
prior to the lashing of passengers'
chairs, by stewards clutching thick rope,
to the captain's leviathan dining table anchored
by the dour Finn hefe steward, preceding
his invitation to choose, after levitating
on cheeses and game, from among
his quaint, dusty liqueurs, seems,
still, the admiral of paradise,
as in mind's heart since
all mortal pleasures
occur here.