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may 2021


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;

i worried:


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?

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