Down bound for Toledo she’s riding low
with grain, slipping through the fine blue
capillary that splits the difference
between Belle Isle and Windsor
Canada keeping a low profile to our south
forever confounding us.
N A I D R A U G A M O G L A
the letters emerge one after another
from behind some trees in the middle
distance, tidy houses of our northern neighbors
gobbled up like so many pills, hull bleeding
rust, a witness to her silent progress
off my bike on my phone listening
to the nurse give the latest maritime news
of your steady down bound passage.