could not consider such a war
as that the sea itself contrives
but hasn’t put in action yet.
This morning’s glitterings reveal
the sea is “all a case of knives.”
Lying so close, they catch the sun,
the spokes directed at the shin.
The chariot front is blue and great.
The war rests wholly with the waves: they try revolving, but the wheels
give way; they will not bear the weight.
Elizabeth Bishop
