by Daniel Rattelle
Fishing-drunk in the Connecticut
and no miraculous catch, you row for home.
What short thrusts from stern
to bow you give
are given back in long strides across the water.
You leverage the world which looks
to be the thing that moves
while the boat holds still.
Back and forth you heave the oars
like the sawyer in a cuckoo clock
and it was getting late. And I was afraid.
that you would be held there
better than the cleat hitch you tied and swore
would never slip.
Dan Rattelle is an MFA candidate at the University of St Andrews. He is the author of the chapbook, The Commonwealth, and lives in Massachusetts.