May
MAY
A big ship anchors off the island. The tall foreign skipper consults with fishermen on the shore. . .
I am told you are a maker of very beautiful cloths, he says. . .
Once, in my youth, I tell him, I made more than grey cloths. But the light left me, suddenly, long ago, and I no longer make the beautiful cloths you have heard of. . .
. . .Go into the kirkyard on your way to the shore and the ship. There you’ll see a stone with INGA of GARTH carved on it.
I open the door wider. I point to the empty loom.
Look there, I say. . .