Non-Erotic PoetrySt Pierre 1830fisherman's shanty perched on rocks
freezing winds invade every crack,
kerosene light and coal fire
rush up the chimney, never
warming or illuminating
but one side at the time
woolens never dry, fall to spring
his body pruning like a Normandy grape,
weathered and dark
he'll die before fifty,
never having drowned,
never having known a landlubber
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