And then there was the pain

like an entity of hate,

moving like Mercury

to the deity of spring.


Into the abstraction

that is the solitary craft,

the layering of iron,

caulking every crack.


I am acute and starving

for bearings I do not understand.

Logical this instant, in

seconds in remand.


Jointed differentiation molds

me in regard to every question.

More stationed in time than idol worship,

proven in every sentence.


Orcas are hacking their cries

like blasted radio mistakes.

Shivering with the underwater darting,

not missed till missing for eight days.


The tilt of the boat,

floating like illness already,

easier than slipping into vagueness,

when fluctuating heat has steadied.


There is a home there,

between the bottom of the boat

and the top of the ocean.

Like a jester and storyteller

the little radio sings,

though never really touching it.

We are versatile things.