Travelling Standing Still/Command from a Hammock

by Genevieve Taggard

COMMAND FROM A HAMMOCK

Whale-cloud, go off, a mile an hourOn your slow business with the air,Getting ingredients for a showerUntil you reach the sky-scape where

My love, not styled a little man,Looks like a black twig in the sea,Under, in shadow, smaller thanHe ever seems when seen by me;

And on your way contrive some weird,Arresting form; make yourself soPeculiar, cumulous, elephant-eared,—Leave off the whale shape as you go. . . .

And loom so queerly as you putYour twilight on him while he swims,His eyes will open first,—then shut,Salt-water silver, round the rims,

That he will say to someone else,—Half to himself and half aloud,—As one child always sees and tellsAnother, pointing, See the cloud!