Push
       

I.
When I was young
my father administered
a drill. In the bay,
he would toss me
without warning from
the side of a day sailer.
I would bob until
he returned, clasp the rudder,
and slip back inside.
Once, I refused,
clung to the hand-straps
and resisted as the boat rocked
back with my weight.

II.
In Holland, a man is building
his second ark. The first,
a half-size model designed
by his wife; the next,
by Biblical standards—
three-thousand tons, Swedish pine,
tall enough to impede
his neighbors' view of the canal.
By law—a steel frame
and building permits.
He has filled the ark with
two plush animals of each sort.
For twenty years, he
has dreamed of rain.

III.
My father said I would turn
the boat over if I stayed.
I said push. I learned
to reconstruct a boat
from the water. He said,
this is why we tie the mast
down. This is how we turn
the hull back toward sky.

IV.
Imagine the grams
of evil you have committed.
Figure your weight
as live ballast.

Apply the symmetric
property. If I held on
to the boat, it has flipped.
If the boat has flipped,
I have held on.

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Copyright © 2013 Kate Partridge All rights reserved
from Weave
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission