William Turner Study of Sea and Sky
The Last Ferryboat
It barged into the river headfirst.
She worried how deep
it was there, at the shore, how
likely to survive.
It was dark and crisp on the water,
with a strong wind. Later,
she tried to remember the color
of the sky and got only gray.
It could have been any color, really,
or none. It could have been
an invisible ferry, plodding along
an invisible route, while she
held on by the crook of one finger,
her penitent thoughts flying
like pennants. It could have
taken her from one
shore of the poem to the other
and yet, it had to halt
somewhere in the middle,
where the ferryman
decided to go fishing
and the passengers jumped
into the current one after another,
like doomed sheep.
NOTE: Linked to the Tuesday Platform in Imaginary Garden with Real Toads and to Poetry Pantry #404 on Poets United