Lost At Sea

Entry by: Martin Willitts Jr

8th April 2015

The boat dock settled and tilted into brackens.
Silver fish heads were cut for gull feed.
The dock was rotted, and the heads glanced
off glassy-eyed towards rippling light
on black ebbing waves. The air smelled salty
and seaweed was strewn like a drowned woman’s
hair, beckoning to follow her into the Nowhere.

So I rowed towards the epicenter of the lake,
far from the cove or recognizable coastline
until I could not see the sloops and topmasts.
I could take as long as it takes to get there.
There was no rush. I heard the oars rubbing
against oarlocks prompting me forwards
towards that clear place where fish circled.
The pull of lure and bobbins was strong.
I was beyond the dark splashes of pines.

In the loneliness, distance pushed the hull
and it resisted wanting to return before sun-drop
to the cottages with hung fishing nets
before the nor'easter tore at my face.
But the water was luminous slivers
like cigarette smoke of cursive writing
insisting I stay.

Somewhere, back in the unknown distance,
stricken houses of palsied framework, peeled,
awaiting any kind of news.