Father, Child, Water

 

by Gary Dop

 

I lift your body to the boat
before you drown or choke or slip too far

 

beneath.  I didn’t think—just jumped, just did
what I did like the physics

 

that flung you in.  My hands clutch under
year-old arms, between your life

 

jacket and your bobbing frame, pushing you,
like a fountain cherub, up and out.

 

I’m fooled by the warmth pulsing from
the gash on my thigh, sliced wide and clean

 

by an errant screw on the stern.
No pain.  My legs kick out blood below.

 

My arms strain
against our deaths to hold you up

 

as I lift you, crying, reaching, to the boat.

 

poem © by Gary Dop

music © Andrew Bird

 

Boys on the Ferry to Orcas

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: