He quite simply could not
stay on land
with the sheet of azure
spread before him,
the land too solid
for his flesh,
the fish in him drawing him
toward water.
He would do the next best thing
to walking on the water.
He would be
in his scull,
only the thin skin of his scull
between his skin and the skin
of the river. He would render
impotent the Hamlet in him,
render potent the Jesus.
He would not procrastinate, but do.
He would row.
Philip Kuepper
(3 July, 2013)
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