6/24/13

The Northwest wind
By Graham Boldt


Yes. You are my tempest, the turn and tangle
about an angry eye, which seeks to spy my
storm tossed heart. Yes. You are the torrid sky
rent with violent sounds, the tisk tisks dangle
amidst a comment meant to mend. Yes. You are
the waves, which seek to send a way man away. Man
was not made to crest Poseidon’s wrack, nor can
he stand beneath the tempest’s weight, when smiles bar
the passage of tongues, when apostles seek escape.
Yet. Are your eyes any less lovely than
the tears of the dawn? No. When wits have run
their course, do I still seek to flee? No. Run the Cape,
and have it ran. Break the tide and find it mend.
Yet, back to the sea I fare, to find her eye again.


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I am a student now enrolled at Trinity Western University in B.C. I wrote this piece about a girl I was pursuing and who is now my girlfriend. She lived in an apartment complex called North West suits, thus the metaphor and title of the piece.