and returned to you, chastened, a helpmeet
charmed,
you laughed at me and said
i can never be i am not.
windburned, seaborne, more vessel
than captain, more belly than prow
in that long grey trek i thought to follow you
back home, or past home, back up
to dry land or the beacon of your face
i could never have succeeded
i thought if i held a course i might steady but
creatures of the swell do not stay still.
i idle now in the trough and return
the slow, swelling stare of the water
in this rising wave.
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