My Ferry’s Cost

I’ve plumbed the bottles’ bottoms, marked them twain,

drowned in an inch of dregs lest die of thirst,

spun silken webs pulled from a matted skein,

tripped on my shade, and touched the Earth headfirst.

What for? Why do I leap to break my crown?

I do not know, for all I can be sure,

which way is right or wrong or up or down,

if you or I am sick, and what’s the cure.

The rains fall long and hard, and short and soft.

Our breath moves in slow motion like the tides.

I think about the times I hurt Her, oft’.

The shame abates; the price for guilt abides.

I loose my clenching brain, and all is lost.

No one but me will pay my ferry’s cost.