Empty Boats

 After T’ao Ch’ien

   by Lou Suarez


The doctor who examined my eyes

owned a boat he hadn’t sailed in years.
I was sitting in his office, listening

as he complained how the boat

gave him no joy. He had a long scar
across his forehead and talked incessantly.

On the wall was a picture of a white

schooner, Happiness painted on the hull.

 

Then he talked of how Jesus Christ would

  return one day to steer us to the infinite.
Afterward I drove home through a heavy
downpour, the rain demanding more than
the sewers could bear. Twigs and leaves

bobbed along the curb like unmanned boats.