Berth

We left at night. Our parents thought it would be easier if we slept while they navigated Treasure Coast to Lucaya, five kids squeezed into the V-berth of our friend’s boat.

The next morning we’d dive for conch and lobster, the turquoise expanse an undulating picnic blanket, sun branded into sky.

But now there was nothing to do but sleep, gestating in that varnished cabin on cushions of foam.

It’s the best sleep I’ve ever had— that comforting darkness, the ocean’s cool breath coming in through the open window above us before I learned to fear, to wonder if we’d get lost, if someone might fall asleep at the wheel.

This was when grown-ups were right, the boat parting the waters so fast, the rocking felt gentle, and I rolled in my sack, breathing in salt and clouds, waiting to be born.

Poetry 65