A Boating Accident
Eroded,
undercut,
sagging for years beneath the weight
of a dead sycamore,
the bank gave way
when the lake was closed
and the dams opened up
during the winter overflow,
leaving the tree offshore,
hunkered down in the water,
half submerged,
its white branches groping the sky
like a blind spider waiting to prey.
The boat just happened to be there
(its outboard, suddenly crippled,
useless against the current),
swept like some hapless insect into a web,
fought for awhile then capsized
in the spider’s embrace,
dumping him unceremoniously into the drink,
dragging him under
half unconscious,
battered by the tree,
swept into the channel,
a red General Motors hat
bobbing ahead of him downriver
like a beacon buoy
before it sank from view
waterlogged.
Time passes slowly underwater.
After struggling in and out
of consciousness,
rising and sinking
for what seemed like hours,
snatching only ragged gasps of sky
to drag down with him,
water and despair overlapped him
one last time
and he decided to breathe
to get it over with;
Lucky for him
the boy from the trailer court
had stolen a boat to go joyriding
or it would’ve been.
Later,
shivering in his wet clothes
in the back of the boat
(so the boat was stolen?
Morality is relative
sometimes)
everything around him was
[(closer) (more remote)]
at the same time
and he noticed
(idly, smiling)
that his Timex
had taken a licking
and kept on ticking.
Copyright © Roxanne Andorfer | Year Posted 2025
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