becalmed

and this calm water
smooth no ripples stretching
to the curved line in the
distance that, if I turn
my head turns with me

and the wood has hurt
my hands I have blisters
and the sun burns my
head and I have no
water here

such silence and such depth
I could go in any direction
and not get there - no
voice no shout no marker
just the labour of my 
heart and the will to keep
wielding the stave

that might save me from
life or death did I
hold it or put it down -
let it slide -
into the water

out here there is no-one
to care, there is no frown
only the grave-end of my days
where, in full sun, in the glide
my heart like lead
weighed me down

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