Estelle

Our ship bevels wide, we hear the women choristers, bring darkness to green light, implore us hear their song, sung like Mass the Matumba, prise apart dissolves our bones, twists each translucent guise, into scented candles, our belfries ring the night, this tiny lamp of boat, a heaving shard of romance, we wrestle among the ropes, with all we'd like, when we hail the dancers, holding arms and smoky wise, will they turn us to stone, bring tears to our eyes, watch us come and go, delay us with the tide?