forty years
the ship sailed bravely.
watertight when new,
shortly then prow-smashed by black hearts
flying white flags,
of parent, friend, and lover,
one after another after one after another.

the lodestone
lost its first sparkle
in invisible fields.
once aversive of reef and rock and bar of sand,
it listed strong here, strong there.
no longer did it even-spin.

the largest sails were furled.
the remaining drooped a bit,
even in fresh wind.

the hull not breached,
but pierced by small cracks
running length width
from rictus prow-smashes.

still, it sailed on,
pumps working below mysteriously,
strangely catching light high winds
that ruffled no other canvas,
sailing them on
into strange twilit empty ports.

and on tuesday,
15 september 1998,
at approximately 1:53pm,
in the kaiser hospital,
south san francisco,
california,
the wind fell.

the ship was becalmed.

and as it coasted
so easily,
so quietly,
to a stop

the lower decks began to fill

and in four minutes or so

it

(all of it)

was sinking to peace,

deeper beneath the surface.

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