Burning the Boat

How I feel whenever I look at that boat . . .

BURNING THE BOAT
February 10, 2009

The sun ignites the
keel upturned against
the house to keep
the weather off and away and out
of the daunting insides
and I see seaweed, hear
the seashells cry with
mews and surf and then
I see the fin
and the glint of living rubber
and hear the gnash of
pointed swords in a maw
too massive to hold them
all, digging into the
gunwales and a wail
breaches the brine-splashed air
and it sounds so far away,
mangled in the horizon,
but it’s me
bawling into the licking,
lashing, leering flames
that bite the boat into a
submissive ferrous heap of
burning embers
that the sun started.
I swear.