The Art of Sinking

Every night at 12,

I pour myself a large

glass of Jose Cuervo,

find an empty seat at

the kitchen table, and

watch as ice cubes

disappear into the

dead sea. I think back

to days spent on the

South Fork--the

way it felt to lie on my

back, and float around

like a sailboat in the

bay, fixed in one place

but always swaying.

Then, I walk upstairs

to draw myself a nice

bath. I wait a few

minutes for the tub to

fill up, and  test the

temperature with the

back of my hand.

The water feels fine,

so I dive in.

Reviews

[Eagle Cruagh]

That is a picturesque sinking. Clear as a bell,
First the stabelizer skeg sinks beneath the surface
followed by the rounded stern, finally her sleek bow
is covered by the steaming bath. Only the rudder
stays maneuverable . A beautiful picture at 12
and then put her to berth from the port side and
rejoice in tune with the night birds and the halyards
slapping the mast---- fog horns moaning on the reef.
A lovely bath and berth.
Thank you
-----Eagle Cruagh