Monday, April 11, 2011

Charon's Call

A shift in the wind,
a reversal of tide,
and with a thrum
the long-awaited boat glides in
(May I have your attention please:
We are now arriving 
at our destination)
and with a matching surge
each would-be rider,
laptop-laden, thumbing cellphone
(do not leave personal belongings unattended)

strains forward, pressed against the crowd
(proceed to one of the passenger assembly stations)
while those who wait to greet stand watching,
clutching their coats, chins lowered against the chill
(smoking is not allowed at any time)

So much is movement, yet so much never seems to change –
(If this should occur, ask any crew member, or review the information)
this waiting room, the dock, the boats,
the water churning, lapping at the pier…
Does one port really differ from another? And which is home?

Sinking against the deepening sky
(in the event of a shipboard emergency)
the sun dons her orange life jacket
(found underneath bench seats
or in drop bins at the base of the stair wells)
And so it begins, the darkness that will pull us through to dawn:
(Upon arrival, all passengers must disembark.)
(We hope you enjoy your trip)

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