Scrape of a Keel

Was a time
I watched your boat
tied up to its red buoy
How it would show up
time to time just at dusk
I’d squint into the sunset
hoping I’d get a glimpse
of you rowing the dingy
back to the failing pier
then you’d disappear
into a tavern

By the dawn
your boat was gone
and with it your shadow
only a red buoy remained
a reminder you’d been here
and were now someplace else
bowline tied to another buoy
How easily you come & go
leaving no wake behind
no imprint to tell me
who you are

“My hours are married to shadow.
No longer do I listen for the scrape of a keel
On the blank stones of the landing.” ~ Sylvia Plath


About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
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3 Responses to Scrape of a Keel

  1. your eye is as unfailing as your heart

    Liked by 1 person

  2. brilliant poem Peter, and the choice of photograph was inspired…


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