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into the mist
by Kristina Woodhilli rode the ferry, Chelan, this past week
left the wheels in the stomach
of the thing
quiet and unattended
held fast by unseen mechanics
with unseen ropes of prim resistance
what a marvel to skim the sea
stand still, yet fly like the cormorants
in full silky black wing, full forward
ignoring the lips of the sea
puckered wet and undulating,
wing tips just out of reach
i could kiss the sea
jump from the rail
grabbing breeze in a joie de vivre
silly stroke of youthful madness
and crush it to my breasts
as i splashed
the biggest cannon ball in history
to swamp nearby San Juans
the three youths knew that drill
i watched them roam the deck and stand
like three DiCaprios in the open-air, forward bow
necks stretched, pulling that destination
reeling it in
then like the rock climbers they were
they jumped and grabbed the metal beams
in the small sitting room adjacent to the open deck
and began a hand-over-hand
dare-devil game of tag
until the steward quietly
reined the steeds back to deck
back to cushioned waiting stalls
i cheered them silently
kin
a flick of tongue and I am tasting
salt sea terms like baggywrinkle,
berth, bilge, bowsprit
settling on booby hatch as our
fitting means of escape
raised eyebrows signal mates
as we slip past napping land lubbers,
scorning those with ties -those holding hands,
pushing baby strollers, tracing fingers on maps,
watching clocks, waiting, ticking, waiting, tock
we are the fog makers, the mist bringers
and we cover them over with dreamy waves
of hypnotic hands
fingers elongating, then arms,
torsos twist free like the screw of a vessel
an old sea ballad whispers us along
in 3/4 time, our furtive new forms
dissolve into wispy strips, slipping
easily through the opening hatch
leading through the belly of the thing
through to the birthing tunnel
into the swirling, welcoming mist
08/04/2009 Author's Note: ;)
Posted on 08/04/2009
Copyright © 2024 Kristina Woodhill
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gregory O'Neill on 08/05/09 at 01:00 AM Oh yes, for "love of life"...you've managed to traipse through the waters and islands of my mythical youth, I still miss...both. Delighted. Thanks. |
| Posted by W. Mahlon Purdin on 08/05/09 at 12:32 PM It's great that you take the time to give so much. You suspend time for your reader and make moments into so much more. A celebration of thought. |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 08/05/09 at 09:10 PM Great write and feeling here. I've sailed on a small schooner called "The Cormorant" many years ago, down the Delaware, across the bay, and up to Atlantic City where a 13-acre Marine park was opening on the inlet. This poem sounds like a lot of fun! |
| Posted by Glenn Currier on 08/06/09 at 03:04 AM So many memories flash as I read your poem: cormorants diving below Niagara Falls in April, the ferry trip across the straits years ago, the Orcas and Humpbacks we saw. You have a way of describing the momentary fullness of nature and then going below decks to reveal the humanity there. |
| Posted by Melissa Arel on 08/06/09 at 05:59 PM Goodness me. This poem is full of glorious descriptions, I enjoyed every line of it! |
| Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 08/08/09 at 12:45 AM More than awesome descriptions; alive--feeling the pulse of ferrying! Brings back fond memories of ferries along the east coast, and even the small one a few miles from here. |
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