Dying beside your folding kayak
After four good hours on the bay
You finally felt your thoughts collect
Then pump frantically away.

Your blood pooled inside your mind
A mind so fine all ideas violated it
A mind for the last time
Immersed in thought.

Thought about the water, the dock, the history
Of your wanting to live near a bay,
Your wanting islands in a bay.
A settlement off the coast of Washington.


You always kicked things to the next level.
Thoughts about thoughts about thoughts.
A kind of cerebral prinking, it seemed to me.

Now you can barely take in the gray plank
By your head. The shaking hand
Of your companion, cupping your neck.

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5 Responses to “Poem.”

  1. Contingent Cassandra Says:

    Nice. Not the situation, of course (though there are worse ways to go; it sounds hardest on the companion), but the expression.

  2. Margaret Soltan Says:

    Contingent Cassandra: Many thanks.

  3. Lisa Beth Durham Says:

    I just chanced to look at your site today and saw your poignant poem, which is presumably about our Kayaksky.


  4. janet gool Says:

    I also saw this, and Lisa sent me a copy as well. Very moving. I didn’t realize the first time I read it that it was yours

  5. Kushal Poddar Says:

    Today I found your space by chance. And to read this poem about the craving (your wanting to live near a bay,
    Your wanting islands in a bay.) and the cold(Now you can barely take in the gray plank)! It freezes a moment while exploring the phrase life passing before your eyes.

    Kushal Poddar

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