Stacie McCall Whitaker - Stone Coast, Maine

Sea Stacks

Written By: Noelle Sullivan

Charcoal scratchings in a bog oak frame:
rough pillars, standing stones at the coast
of Donegal, or Kerry,
gravestones of islands, most larger than a perch,
wait there like fat-bottomed gulls.

Or are they children, crumbling, straining for freedom?
One old man mapped them, gout and all, with no gear but ropes
and a desire to know his country outside the big house.
Now a miller from Orkney scales a tower. He waves
to gulls and petrels, puffins all alarm. The surfers rise,

orcas in neoprene, as he climbs.
Two hours by boat, a day of arm’s reach,
then stretching down, weak and wobbly.
His boat rocks, a cradle.
A hundred thousand stacks go unscaled.

He flies down, abseiling.
His wings are those of birds.

About the Author

Noelle Sullivan - Poetry - Sea Stacks

Noelle Sullivan’s poems have appeared in Crannog, Poetry Northwest, Camas, Abridged, and other journals. She paints and writes from Montana and Ireland. A devotee and collector of historic Irish photography, she maintains Montana Gael, an occasional blog about images and archives in that field.

Twitter: @MontanaGael