north from Deep Cove
              slicing almost silent
              my kayak heads up the Indian Arm;
              each paddle stroke
              a human feature moults
              a scale or feather blooms


              cliffs and bays slip by
              scoured by trillion tongues;
              below the boat loom
              trillion jelly maws
              yearning to suck the sun


              off Croker Island
              paddle stirs the grasses
              in my parents' backyard;
              I've become so little
              Mother calls me for dinner
              to the mist of her skirt
              her glacier breast


              at the top of the Arm
              water's calm, flat as death
              paddle swirls momentary
              galaxies of loss;
              sinking star cinders
              too tired to swim
              seals of wonder
              very far or very deep


              animal in a plastic boat
              I coast to the rock face;
              I've kept my appointment
              there, above the high tide line
              with your red claw
              with your red jaw
              your red and bottomless eye

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