My boat was an argument.

Like all arguments

it leaked when subjected to pressure,

once dragged out of shadows

was unable to endure the corrosions of the sun.

 

It took some tacking

a modicum of sweat

but rounding the point I could see

the tightly crammed shantytown of options.

A new life perhaps

but little beauty.

 

The land felt difficult, I could not blame my feet.

There were no fortifications

no customs clerks to wheedle & detain.

This was a potentiality where the greatest prize

was also the meanest.

If you are desperate enough to find us

you belong

forever.

Arrivals here, or anywhere

must gauge the value of their parts.

Will someone buy my arms

my voice          my body?

 

Taking up a borrowed chisel

I began to carve by rote

the rules of this rough living.