Pale Water Sky Colored

I inherited a skin, a boat, 
a light bundle. I carry it,
I fold it small to hide it,
I have traveled by it,

across oceans, up rivers,
over miles and miles of land–
sometimes calm or frozen,
sometimes waves like mountains– 
pulling oars, moving backwards,
viewing shoreline in the distance
away, away, because I am
attached in old ways to
islanders born this way:
pale water sky colored
down deep, hooked anchor
hearts that sink and keep still
until currents pull away and
move one’s entire body toward 
the wideness and wonder because 
it makes the skin feel good. 

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