the Water and the Wake
When the sea cracked out came a memory
She was a tree limb, she is a ship—all at once
Rootless and full of sky. A ship mistress
Ark’d against the mast, in ecstasy over trouble-waters,
Gulls gailing siren cries make for eyes, her chin
The endless compass of the sea. How many years
Did she live under-sod before they un-buried her bones
How many more can she hold her breath,
Drifting on the whims of a headwind.
Poem 65 Edited – Poem 65 Original
a second draft. i’m unsure.the water and the wake
I remember oozing from the crack in her. She was a tree limb; she is a ship.
I can still recall the white milk spilling out across the sea. A ship with a
wooden mistress leading us starward; arms outstretched and I came
from the deepest hull where the water beat drum-desperation against her broad sides.
I remember clawing at the gravel and reaching the caliche. Fracturing
every fingernail on the desert backbone and wishing still there had been water.
I reminisced of coming up for air after swimming for centuries in blue-bleak
blackness and gritting my teeth with sand for sanctuaries. Oh pity.
How many years did I live under-sod before they unburied my bones?
How long can I hold my breath; waiting for the tide…