the woodstove is tiny yet still it gives heat

in the boat
the water
lifts me.
in the boat
the water
carries me
down.

i am not
a man,
but
a hollow.

in the boat
the wind
pushes me
tight
against the dock.
in the boat
the wind
pulls me
taut
against my ropes.

i am not
a man,
but
a space.

in the boat
there is so much
unseen
beneath me.
in the boat
there is so much
unimaginable
above me.

i am not
a man,
but
a breath.

the body is
brief
and this is
a sorrow.
the body is
brief
and this is
an everlasting joy.

the breath
allows me,
the breath
does not
possess.

a man in a short sleeved black shirt and black tattoos upon his pale arms, sits in the dim of a small interior space, looking directly at the viewer

Published by Zak

an intertidal island in an ocean of impermanence.

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