I am rowing, I am rowing
try to keep one another from the
steak knives...I saved him tonight, as he did
me, last week. But these angry scarlet frowns
sneer from my wrist, tell of times before I
found refuge. This harbor we reside in
offers little amity... so we carve
out of old furniture, with rusty
utensils...skin is silent when it bleeds.
And we need to hear our wretchedness dimmed
through the shredded cries of fabric tearing,
while we unravel our grief. Yes, we are
still floating, but raven waters know how
entice...drowning is easy, it is
harder to restitch the seams of our breath
or mend our second hand sails. But tonight
the moon flows dripping with absolution.
And for one more night we will row... worried
seas distract us from ourselves and the knife.
2River View, 1_4 (Summer 1997)