Freight, Maura Dooley

I am the ship in which you sail,
little dancing bones,
your passage between the dream
and the waking dream,
your sieve, your pea-green boat.
Ill pay whatever your ferry needs,
and you, whose history already charted
in a rope of cells,be tender to
those other unnamed vessels
who will surprise you one day,
tug-tugging, irresistible,
and float you out beyond your deapth,
where youll look down, puzzled, amazed.