is it naive to believe that i would survive?
the waves rock against
the hull of the boat—-
it’s simple:
to be here
with the salt
& the sun & the gull’s cries
i imagine myself as an infant,
not nurtured, but alone
in this boat
humans are capable of life without touch
sorrowfully, one must search,
kiss the folds of their own skin,
find love in their aloneness:
it’s not bad
once you give in to your wrongdoing
& accept being here