Her heart fails her and the body holding it
lies on its side, the lungs taking on fluid
so it will be, we are told, like drowning
we can’t stop and each week’s watch is a hot
potato we relay over Nantucket Sound rotating
by ferry in partial acceptance full steam ahead
from Woods Hole to the Vineyard and back
like sailboats on moorings, the buds on trees
at each landfall swelling, halyards banging
and banging aluminum masts,