by Ted Powers

I want you to go on the ferry 
to the island with me
The others will be okay 
for a day In your hand 
I will turn my hand  
into a more delicate hand
The past is all over them
and the water is
a long wobbly plate
When we arrive at the island
leave your umbrella 
on the dock It won't be there 
when we return My love for you 
is a bucket of water 
I throw at the sun 
a large cloud becoming fog
a long wobbly plate
I don't have anything to say 
about the island 
and then night falls 
like a blanket over a bat
onto us We ride home 
in the boat that drank the lake

Originally published in Sixth Finch (Summer 2014).