the boat

from
Peeling the moon:
a suite of poems

by
Judith Kerman


from the dock
separation becomes a horizon
across the shimmering morning
the sail from some angles
dissolves, from some
reflects the knifeblade of
a human profile
she centers the fog
with not enough wind to go anywhere
as she drifts the lake is void beneath her
against the cold sturdiness of water
the fish sliding into the dark
go anywhere, it is not enough
(the green island, the quai)
the winds push
from seven directions into one place, a calm


the sail angles from the water
sheets and shrouds taut at the edge
slack in the center
and the tiller wounds the water invisibly
I reach to save her
from the mist corroding the sail
blurring the swift line of gunwale and shroud
but only touch water, wet air
condensing on my skin and clothes
hanging from my eyelashes and hair
saltless tears
wherever she could take me
the steel drift of water is between us
and the stubborn wind refuses to come back
she dies and reappears like a promise
a delusion

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Previously published and copyrighted in Moving Out 8#2
All rights reserved.

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