The first thing I remember
is the rigging: how bright it was,
how it still smelled of oil, and the hull:
solid, capable of any weather.
And then I remember things breaking down
faster than I could fix them.
First above-deck, then below.
I finally gave up, pulled down
the blinds, went back to bed,
clicked through the channels.
And then I recall looking out
over the white exhausted waters,
and seeing it there, waiting for me.
I thought of my mother, both my sons.
Nothing moved.
Even the birds grew still.