The Boat

Stay with me

Today—

So that even when

You are not in my eye,

The pasts before you

And the futures

After would trouble us no more

Than the ocean

Surrounding my peculiar,

Leaky, slow and

Rather unseaworthy

Boat.

Whether you perch at the

Helm, vigilant steering—

And I love you there,

Bright in command,

Finding our way toward

That future

After, inevitably,

we both land.

You need me to navigate,

To rearrange the past

Preceding us,

Make a safe path.

Or near the glowing sunset

If you choose to guard

The forecastle,

To gaze back

across the bow

With your palm edge

Shielding the setting sun,

And suddenly I am able

Silently to look

At your face,

And finally know

The true color of your brow.

And noontime

Perhaps we stand along

The side rail,

Hand in hand,

And count the hours

As hills and valleys,

Portraits, not chalk

Marks on our cabin wall.

But still, I understand,

And hope you might as well,

That love is not an ocean

Or a plotted course,

Not the telltale wake

That dogs a ship,

Not even the salt spray

Beckoning us ahead.

Love is a peculiar,

Leaky, slow and rather

Hasty cobbled boat—

Mine happens to have

Virtually no crew.

The only rules that govern there,

That half (whichever gleans my mood)

Puts up with me today,

And half belongs to you.

EJR