Mooring At the end of the dayin the darkness of the harboredging forward along the starboard raileach step a challengecold concentrationheavy arms lifted the chainsover the bow bitthe frozen air holds a man hostagebut we’re almost homethe body moves forward on its ownpulled in the skiff by a gentle swellcareful nowfind those oars with frozen fingerspainfully grip and pullstraighten, steadypoint the bow towards the docksas if the tide had a hold of youslowly ebbing towards a warm homefood never tasting bettersleep a dream awayrowing home with an old clean soulThis poem was published in The Island Reader, vol. 6, 2011.
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