Three poems


Into the Gap

Everything on shore bites,

but I’m not there. My friend

Fred is back at the throttle

and I’m up in the bow on

a boat cushion since they

haven’t yet passed the life-

preserver law. Under our feet

soft waves slap the aluminum

hull and behind Fred, the Evinrude

waves a flag of exhaust back

to my mother on the beach who

in her mind has murdered me

for what I’ve done now. We aim

through the gap between Tin

and Raspberry toward what

looks like the other side but

is only another island, big as

a glacier’s underbelly. Behind,

there is only blame and the land

carved out and of course once

I grow up I’ll grind into it like

maimed granite, but for now I fill

my face as full of wind as I can

since as long as we are loose on the lake,

Fred and I have ourselves forever.

Kamikaze

He is old and he will not eat. He