|
East of Truk |
Copyright 1984
Berkeley, 1984
Next poem: Dark Wolf
There are dolphins, bravely leaping by the prow
So careful in their precision, but then, the sea is too big
To be a home. We now have no address
No hearth which was our family's center.
Instead we gather in front of the plastic kitchenette
It dispense out food. I refuse the title cook
This takes no skill, I rarely even burn myself.
The radio is what you miss of it all. I mean after the obvious
Things like mail and steady ground. When it comes on
It cracks, like its trying to find its voice.
Then the words coalesce from somewhere inside.
The radio knows many languages. One time we caught it speaking
Polish. Strange to hear my mother's language out here.
Out nowhere.
My husband tells me we are 15 minutes east of Truk island.
His name used to be Eric but now it has become Skipper.
When we make love, it seems immoral, I am only part of the crew.
He speaks of minutes and degrees and I'm still not used to the
Connection. Even after these 18 days. Truk is an interesting place
But we won't land there. Always remaining just a fly-speck on my
Blue map. Owing its existence to the beneficence of some
Cartographer's pen.
The maps were what started us out. Oceans and seas
Constantly crept into Eric's conversation. He wanted to sail on the great
Water --- The Pacific. Shield to nearly half the earth. Eric
Puts it down to his Norse blood. What began to fascinate me was
The thoughts of those lost islands, so far from mother
Continents. What did they dream, so quiet in their contemplation
Of only themselves and the great surrounding water.
So we decided on a departure month; the task was odd.
You can never believe in what you haven't seen. I'd never
Seen the ocean, flat and continuous like it has swallowed everything.
I'd never seen this many days of isolation --- just ourselves,
Our salt speckled nautical selves.
All our preparations were bought between the specific book
Trivia and the knowledge that we couldn't be really
Leaving, abandoning our home for the ceaseless waves.
What did Eric's harder ancestors think when they
Set out to the fish swept sea? How could they have hope
When we have a globe, navigational satellites, digital clocks?
They could not have done this for enjoyment.
Now I know what those islands think
I have been one and it is too distant
From everything that is.
