there, with a dash on the beach – Virginia Woolf

Hard seats bump, the truck slews
skids on the sand of the thin-armed
cape. The tower, isolated at the cape’s elbow,|
was lifted by helicopter and set again
away from the surf. Visitors can climb
spiral stairs, then a steep ladder to the lens
where they can wonder how a flame,
small as an eye, could guide wooden
schooners safely though Muskeget Channel.

On the bluff, a rough-cropped path
leads through red cedar and poison ivy
to the edge. Below lies the old foundation,
borne by pall-bearing sand to rest
like a casket in the tide. On the bank
the only sound is the whir of mosquitoes
which live their whole, brief life here.
Beyond, the sea waits curled and whole.