Sailing into last Saturday
who could have seen the storm ahead?

A few swells and choppy seas you’d noted,
prepared the mother ship to ride them out
taking turns at the wheel.

Suddenly, like a wind from nowhere
your first mate, best mate
leapt over the side.

The ship rolled, lurched and reared,
while you, trembling with fury, marked his desertion,
took hold of the wheel, planted your feet
and held on.

Your girls called to their father in deep waters
threw him life buoys and insults by turns

Bobbing in icy water he refused all help
Believing his sweet desert-island dream
would hold his salvation.

Who knows what internal landslide
precipitated his leap;
who knows when his desert island will tilt.

Meanwhile you steer the mother ship
Watching through fierce tears
Your daughters on the deck
Looking out at the clouds
through the pounding rains of winter.

Julie Perrin © 1999