a blanket of fog called for dead
reckoning shortly after having launched from the east
end beach and passed peaks island.
we used the sound of a buoy bell as our reference point
and aimed our kayaks at long island ahead, confident
we will emerge near its banks (we did).
as we crawled forward
i glanced behind me
and watched the buoy bell fade, like
away from orpheus
and for moments, my mind raced;
will we stray into the atlantic by way of fog?
will the islands march off as we near?
is there enough water before resorting to drinking the sea?
and what of the sharks?
there was a shark attack a few weeks ago
will i suffer that fate?
will i bleed to death in these waters?
will i ever see you again?