Once to Oka in a rowboat all of you once
with a ten-horse-power outboard
attached to the back your uncle
yanks the cord yanks the cord
steers his eye on the faraway shore
the two aunts
on the long middle bench bicker
under sun hats made of pink straw
your mother
guards the towels in her lap and a box
of marshmallow cookies
a carton of drinks at her feet
and your father
strangely in the boat too watches
the water fill the boat’s bottom
scoops and bails
scoops and bails
you and your sister two-headed bowsprit
dogs in an open-air car
almost barking for speed
and for danger
something lurking the Loch Ness
the waves smashing the boat’s low
wooden sides pitching and yawing
half-way the motor starts coughing
almost capsizing this rowboat
especially unsuited for deep-water crossings
the lake gullies
ditches and peaks the boat plunges bangs
flat on the water no one speaks
this family ill-equipped
to endure overlong
finally Oka
showing itself
the clear promised land closer
father bailing the small plastic pail
still in his grip
scooping scraping the bottom
uncle squinting now under his baby-oiled brow
aunts in a scowl
mother mouth folded
the towels bunched in her lap
ever-present
especially near shore the danger
something like anger
a strong chance of rocks