Labored Vision

I’m still thinking about the mast

I saw sinking in the surf last August.

I was tired too.

I meant to write a poem about it.

A narwhal, a unicorn, a crucifix 

nailed to the wall above of a bed?

Not any of these. Not yet.

We dragged the crab pot 

into our homemade dory, 

a boat we can never 

seem to name, and we 

set free the starfish

clinging to the cage, 

forever confusing us 

with their own strange 

vision of heaven.

[LSS, 12/22/20]