6 December 2020

By Philip Kuepper

The air was as though
some force was stretching it
to the point of tearing,
so thin the membrane of it
the rower rowed through.
Gasping, he slowed,
rowed to the point
of stillness.  He caught
his breath.  He sat
bent, in a slight arc,
over his oars,
like the arc of the sun
seen to rise above earth’s horizon.
He rose, slowly,
to an erect position,
gripped hold the oars,
and departed the point
of stillness.

(7 November 2020)