Nick Malgieri's Perfect Pastry Book

Fine fingers quiver;
A fragile body breathes:
A boat sliding across
Fathomless silent seas.
*
The sea’s chest breathes calmly,
But the mad day sparkles
And the foam’s pale lilac
In its bowl of turbid blue.
[...]
Like the shadow of sudden clouds,
A visitor from the sea swoops down
And, nipping past, whispers
Along embarrassed shores.

An enormous sail austerely soars;
Dead-white, the wave shrinks back –
And once more will not dare
To touch the shore;

And the boat, rustling through the waves
As though through leaves …
*
And if truly sung,
Wholeheartedly, at last
Everything vanishes, nothing is left
But space, and stars, and singer.

Who can know from the word goodbye
What kind of parting is in store for us,
*
Have I got drunk on doors that lock me out? –