Anchorite

It would seem, from the sound of it, slang
In Her Majesty’s Navy, say, circa
Trafalgar”the deckhand whose job was
To heave-ho the anchor aboard,
The chain like a slain sea serpent?
Collecting in coils behind him.

Or maybe a meteor fragment,
Some glittery space-coal without
Any real industrial uses”
A novelty, anchorite, sold
In the rock-box next to the quartzes
At a science museum gift shop.

You would never imagine it wanted
To sail in the other direction,
A rare earth dreaming of heaven
And pulling its rosary beads
Like the links in a chain that leads
To the sea floor, and the iron that anchors it.