My ship wrecked long ago

, so long that

I do not remember

when it happened

; but I know I was not steering

, and then I felt it

, not a loud crash,

but a quiet, aching thud.

and

I met the ocean

without

a lifeboat

and

I floated the sea

for

years.

the cargo

drifted away

from me

slowly

, things

that I needed

to

stay sane.

boxes

of feelings

, all

vanishing before me,

into

the moon’s

pull over

the water.

the tide

wanted me dead

but I swam

hard

and

kept going

till

I hit land.

the rocky shore

cut my hands

and knees

as I crawled

and caught my breath

, and finally

I stood

and saw nothing.

so now

I sit in the sand

and stare at the sky

, and I wait, hoping

some of those boxes

—happiness, sadness

, contentment, anger—

will come back.

and if

I ever leave

this island

, I will remember

to never let a woman

be the captain

of my ship

again.