#348. the cutter eagle

August 8, 2010

i built a ship
a childhood
balsa and pine
on my small hands
the hands of my dad
large and sure
we worked so hard
to build and paint
the cutter eagle
running home
after school to sand
the hull smooth
and dream

i gave it to my dad’s
father when he admired it

years later
it returned to me
after deaths
it was covered
in dust and cobwebs
rigged it

as my years passed
it grew tattered and
broken and thrown away
with one of my failed lives

but my ship still lives
rotting on in a landfill in jersey
and here within my double planked
mind making its way across the endless

4 Responses to “#348. the cutter eagle”

  1. slpmartin said

    Wow…this poem struck me so hard for a number of reasons…it is one of my favorites of yours which I hate saying because I have enjoyed so many…but this one had emotions that touched images in my own childhood…thank you for this poem.

  2. Sara said

    That’s a 3 hankie poem. 

  3. Evelyn said

    “and thrown away
    with one of my failed lives”
    so much in just this one line…

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