Head of the meadow

I see creatures crouching in the grass

the tethered whale made of glass
holds moon and night in holy mass 

Is there life beyond the mast
- I tiptoe

Is this word my last
is this world dark and vast 
perhaps exactly the sea for which I asked
              
         Four ships pass 
I am trapped
sail past 
the untethered whale 
who in the pale stares back at me
            and laughs