I sleep
with one foot on the floor
I think I will never
shake this rocking out of me
I am cargo
and I am seasick
and at night I see an eye
at the hole in the wall
and it is the eye of the man
the man who is my handler
I am learning
to navigate by a strip of light on the deck
and things aren’t
happening fast enough
and my chest heaves
and my sweat is yellow
and there is no way
to make the toothpain go away
besides
oh how many times
must I plait my hair
and I suffer night terrors
and I lack the privacy to be disgusting
and my stomach is angry
I find comfort
in thinking how old is this boat
how old the chirring wood
how old the trees it came from
when planted, when cut
and to piece the trees back together
and name them