Listing ships

Had I been listless,

Done. Nothing To Do

for lack of wood pulp, or would

and pulp,

for want not to float upon 

facades, skirt on edges, to not

feel the marginalia and rip rap

hit the sides,

holding back

the body,

there would still be 

an attachment to enough rope

to go around.

Without implementation,

rudders, or other such

contraptions

to head our aim, ply and slog,

drifting

is all that is done right.

To go on 

observing instead of 

commanding, holding 

on to the rails

with fingertips and first

knuckles only, lightly

the self adjusts

trading winds

until all seems leveled

up, like glass or calm

glimmers that dance,

smoothly this rock

glides underneath 

carrying its own weight

violent and jealous

of the flotilla holding up-

right for a fragment of time.

There was nothing left

To Do. 

Painting by J. M. W. Turner, 'Rough sea with wreckage' (c.1840-45) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.