First Craft

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.