Suppose a ship.
Not necessarily that
trim craft Dante
with some of us boy poet
friends set out
upon the slender sea
in quest of the magic island
where the Word grows,
haunted by a hungry Muse,

suppose a ship, doesn’t have
to be a liner nosing through ice floes
or an ironclad scared of torpedoes,
a ship we have to suppose,
not even a Norwegian freighter
o that deep blue flag in new light
lipping at dawn up the Narrows
between Brooklyn and Staten Island,
between where I lived and where I worked,

suppose a ship, of course
not a cruise ship
pretending to be a city
or an aircraft carrier
pretending to be an island,
suppose a ship, no authentic
caravel carrying Aztec gold to Spain,

be patient with me, suppose
a ship, not a ferryboat
across the Bosporus, not a skiff
on the Baltic, bright-haired
warriors scudding towards
one more battle,

suppose a ship
instead as calm as the sea
it proposes to ride, suppose
a ship empty, sails furled
neatly, resting at the shore
peaceful as a sleeping nun,

suppose we make our way
down the sands and climb on board,
suppose the inscrutable crew
casts off so we drift
slowly enough almost across
the current as the wind
picks up, no sails up yet,
we wonder about that,
the wood of the deck
is fresh and clean, the taffrail
polished and smooth,
is it leather maybe? hide
of some ancient beast still soft?

Above us they’re unmuzzling the sails,
suppose we feel for the first time,
maybe the first time ever,
what the sea is saying to our feet,
subtle sway of limbs, balance,
suppose its word seeps
up into us, reaches the shallows
of loins and heart and mind,

the ship is moving steady now,
the sails boisterous, loud creak of wood,
noisy boot-steps of the unseen crew
doing whatever it is they do

and we go! Suppose we go
and keep going
as long as the sea
keeps talking,
and is there ever
night on this ocean?

Suppose there are cabins down below
or bunk beds or hammocks,
suppose we can sail
all day and into the dark
then sleep easy into day again
and go along wittingly with
whatever the sea was saying,
saying even now,
suppose the ship
is underneath us now
and we have sailed
all the way to today,
storm-free, the horizon clear.

3 September 2020