Your Journey (4:111)

Boat toy boat law boat low in Melodie's arms. She blows green water ripples, she squeezes humming blots from bows, her lungs. She goes

No. No honey. She bolts high birds filled with fancy over her pale Melodie. Now darling leave, let it set. Let it boat now. Mother links

Me, Melodie lapsed on a string. The watches are stirring with scissors. Low boats in the sing. She bleats and she pushes the paper pink

Boat, sail first, into green. It swallows her fists. The water is thick. With boats seasick with boats. Where lime dyes eddy she rows.

First published in Barrow Street. Copyright © 2008 by Jonathan Thirkield. From The Waker's Corridor (Louisiana State University Press, 2009). Used by permission of the author.