I sleep in this small bed
    this slim den
the world, mine that is

alone as if water trapped
    by islands
a ship, I think, this grim grace of pine

thin plank, wide plank
I feel the sides grow up,
rectangular box, you comprehend

which but soothes, safe am I
    from the man fearsome now
as spent smoke

pads from the room crown first
    as though takes a vow
accepts nothing now

all night I row sad this ship
  of  two minus one
shadow remains of the bow

grim sickbround by grief
   dream to end in this
two-time loo of limb

then force a flank to its
    unforgiving face
draw knee up beneath the chin

 owe no one this body yet how it howls
     for that other palm
  that solace frond his gliding

  like what am I an ocean
   a new one every time
like a boat he goes on nightblack water

smooth I think smooth
   me in my ship
the world below turning

us all inward churning
the dogs flat on their sides
older, thinner, wasting waiting

I am home in this slim skin
     of heaven - wood be-loved
 me its prey    its kin     its twin.

- Julianza K. Shavin