Boats
46 the widows’ handbook Boats Diana O’Hehir I’ll write, Bill yelled waving as his boat accidentally broke loose from the pier. He wasn’t a lover, just a good friend and we got him back in half an hour but he did write often and I’ve got picture of the boat a plastic skiff with a blue stripe. I also have a photo of yours—your boat a small white yacht which steamed purposefully out into the bay and stopped to let you off. You and I and our son were on it. I leaned against the rail while Michael upended the black ceramic box which held the dusts and gravels of you. How did you know that was him? someone asked. I said I didn’t. But really I was sure. Your colors were gray and white with an orange flower floating in the middle. bereft, mourning 47 Goodbye darling, I said I’ll write as you swirled symmetrically away beyond the views of Marin and bridge toward Tiburon where we used to live. ...
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