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Poem	Look at my knees, That island rising from the steamy seas! The candles a tall lightship; my two hands Are boats and barges anchored to the sands, With mighty cliffs all round; They’re full of wine and riches from far lands…. I wonder what it feels like to be drowned? I can make caves, By lifting up the island and huge waves And storms, and then with head and ears well under Blow bubbles with a monstrous roar like thunder, A bull-of-Bashan sound. The seas run high and the boats split asunder…. I wonder what it feels like to be drowned? The thin soap slips And slithers like a shark under the ships. My toes are on the soap-dish—that’s the effect Of my huge storms; an iron steamer’s wrecked. The soap slides round and round; He’s biting the old sailors, I expect…. I wonder what it feels like to be drowned?
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