walks

ought to, every day,

walk.

A walk

that ought

but wasn't

doesn't mean

you'll

never ever

have

another.

the small boat (o pequeno barco)

bilge water

bow -

how

below 

I know 

charts

the course

cussed

 Then

again

swear

where

we,

prose or poemed,

regenerate,

composted

into

love.

God's names.

Mother's.

Sacrifice.

Lust.

Cussed into and out of us -

because

we weren't

we are never

enough.