He tries to stop us
He goes overboard
There are no children
Water fills the boat.

We choose a new captain
He falls asleep
Face down on the waves
There is no ocean.

We each steer the ship
Men are tied to rafts
Dancing the tango in the air
Our feet melt to the boards.

Women are packed in boxes
They do not belong
Children throw the boxes to the fishes
The captain is back.

We don’t know how to steer
Waves break the fragile boards
The stern dips deeper
Ghosts circle the vertical ship.

Nobody can breathe
We don’t live
We don’t die
The dead are attached at the limbs.

We can drive a boat
There is no boat
We cling to our new rafts
Where are the fish?

Children parade around the mast
Their ears are our oars
The iceberg is yards away
We jump into the water, unified.

We stand on the surface
Gliding to the tribe
Their spears sparkle in the sun
We have no legs.

The trackless train takes off
There is no conductor
We are taken to the core
There is a seamstress.

She whistles and rocks
Blood staining her hands like tears
Pansies surround her legs
Flat like paper against the wall.

The train rocks on the waves
We stand against the tree
Nobody takes our tickets
There is no sound.

The windows show movies
Images of lilacs and festivals
People are crying
What are people?

There is no seamstress
Her legs remain on the wall
We are frozen
There is no we
I am left on the boat.