Exangel

by Barry Vitcov.

Not meant for dry land
sailing off the coast of Croatia
a week’s journey discovering
her own mythology, her roots
rebeginning whenever she goes to sea

Five in the morning
finally she can relax a little
exhausted and yawning
after a sweeping flood
washed over the boat
a black night full of light
pulsing its forces like tympany
the yacht despite being well-outfitted
learned new dances

Now moored like an orphan
swum from the ocean’s depths
finding a growing spirit
wondering what the chances were
she would explore again

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