That's what we had, maybe.
One day before our faces.
Now, this is where we are.
Trying on well-fitting boots.
We bought them. The book.
The line. The sinking thoughts.
Them too, we bought. “Fuck the
farm, we bought the boat!”
The oars and the ocean too.
And then we threw them all
in. Chopped the little ones
for our chum and threw them
in too. I can see them now,
our pieces, moving up from
the dark like bright fish. Our
beautiful boat is eating us.
This poem first appeared on my friend Jeremy Nathan Marks' project,
Poetry of the Resistance.
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A Prayer Like Gravity 
Scary beautiful, my friend.
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Gosh. Sorry it took me so long to respond to your kind words.
I cam across and earlier version of this piece in my journals and vaguely remembered posting it here. Couldn’t quite remember how I’d changed it.
What with the Ukraine and what’s happened over the last 5 years, it’s ringing in my ears again….
Been thinking of sharing it in that ‘other’ place….
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Though I might have to change the title to, ‘A beautiful, fucked up boat’ (if you’ll pardon my vulgarity….)
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No worries, one can’t help think that there’s a reason you came across the other version now. It’s still a very intense poem. No doubt about that. But simply “A Beautiful Boat” says it best because then, there’s a surprise in the text. Be well!!!
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