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| Skipjack, my cousin claims,
Long beam, single mast far forward, trunk cabin just aft. But it’s the tomatoes that claim my eye: bushels and baskets, lined up on deck and dock, ripe rubies. Two men in overalls bend and lift. Above, sails are furled, rigging slashes the sky. Beyond, the river curves from Quaker Neck to Shippen Creek. ~ from “Tomato Boat” |
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| Consider those whales who
drive themselves up on beaches, strand themselves— no one knows why they do it, they can’t seem to stop nor disengage. All that can be done to help is gently stroke their brows, pour salt water across their backs as they keen their song on the sand. ~from "Recasting Step One" |
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