17 November 2024

By Philip Kuepper

At the outer reach of the inner harbor,
the small yellow rowboat
sat like a sunspot
on the sky-reflecting water.
Rowers sighted it as the marker
they would row out from,
and row back to,
row out from until
the sunspot became
no more than a yellow speck.
They painted the water with their oars,
drew the reflected sunspot of the boat
as far out from where it sat,
until it tore, and dissolved.
And then they were in the thick of the blue-
grey of the water,
rowing to the point until the first burn
of their muscles set in,
then turned to return
toward the ever larger and larger
yellow speck that sat
a sunspot in the sky.
They had rowed free of reflection,
and vanished into the burning
sun of reality.

(7-8 November 2024)