Journey into the Eye

for Wesley Shrader

Having no choice but to go down, the sun

without hint of its will to disobey, hung

for the moment suspended from the rapidly

vanishing blue of the sky, like a pearl

from a pole, a streetlamp, or a chandelier

which, with the emptying of the ballroom,

stops swinging of a sudden and is so still

it seems it never could have moved. Still,

The sun was going to go down, but first

invited my rowboat to join it, and so I

devised a journey into the eye, and embarked

on it, gliding without work of oars or arms

over the clear and calm watery floor, cool

as an ice-skating rink, peaceful as sleep,

summery as myself in a boy's blue overalls,

freedom's uniform, fishing at memory's end.