She walks toward the stern
as if in ether, floating
between sky and surface
on the festooned upper deck.
The Dinner Cruise plows forward
through the silvered waters
with an organ playing,
small white lights strung from the rails.
Their speed matches, and
she seems to stay in place
for those fifteen, twenty feet
of opposite directions-
her movements suspended
steps traversing time
she enters a young cosmos
where nothing will pass,
everything stops, mid-turn
then wraps itself in counter-turns
that nullify the past.
The daylight falters
and the moon tips backward
in some grand orbital grace.
A dove nearly alights, then lingers
in the space between flying and landing.
I stand at the shore to watch
the waves roll back
upon themselves.
The woman whispers, “Oh,
I wish this night could last forever…”
She walks forward
toward the wake.
