Shanna Compton
Boat Meets View
New Poems From the USA
   I am a boat.
   And by that I do not mean
   I am boatlike
   or participate vaguely
   in some conception of boatness.

   Bricks, bridges.
   Wind, water.
   And a turquoise boat.

   And there, the boat.
   The little boat
   not blue, not green,
   not on water.
   Nothing boatlike except
   in some poked-through essence.

   The unwaterlogged little boat.
   Little landlocked spine.
   Alas, its poor bleached shell.
   Some cotton nests not in the chest
   but in the air
   above the black gantries to the southwest.

   Over there is a pink view.

   The pink cup near the sink
   has had no lips on it.
   From the window
   the white buildings buzz.
   Oh, there's the pink view.
   And then you said, "I smell oysters."

   The Titanic
   is completely boatlike
   and possesses its boatness even now.
   It sails everywhere, without water.
   It floats because it sank.

   Parentheses are boatlike.
   But not blue, not green.
   Here is a voice. It exclaims
   "Oh take me pink views
   Take me to your mouth
   like a cup, kiss
   my punctured turquoise hull.
   I am a boat.
   I am a boat.
   Oh pink view, I am a boat."