night ferry

At an uncertain distance

from the shore

there is only 

the uniform blackness

of sea and sky.

Water does not hold 

the memory of distance 

like land does.

What is here now

will be leagues away 

come morning 

and something else 

will arrive 

to take its place.

In the distance the low fire

of the oil rigs

blinks a message

to the boatman 

who is walking now 

along the gunwale 

barefoot and untethered

as though blind

to the foaming sea

that waits

patient

at his heels. 

The boat dips and sways 

the arc of its light flattening

across the water

and I am consumed

by the thought

of how far 

beneath and beyond me 

this heaving 

molten thing 

extends

and how dearly 

I want to cry out

into the pitch black of sea

in answer to an

ancient voice

that is calling to me.