The hum of the electric heater
is the only sound tonight
drowning out the lapping waves
and the foghorns.
Soon we will hook up
the de-salinators
unless the fish are floating
belly up.
Then, there will be no point.
We have headed into dark waters.
Are they unmapped?
They are not on any grid
in any book I have ever read.

I am remembering America
tonight
like a great beacon
that lit up the world
with a cold, blue precision:
This is the territory
Here it is safe
Stay inside the circle
Stay inside the light

The light dimmed.
Maybe the light died.
Maybe the light
simply shifted its focus
elsewhere.
Maybe
the light was a lie.
Nearly everything is these days.

I am remembering America
like a big fuzzy blanket
like Christmas morning
like my first kiss
like the way he looked at me
when he slipped the ring on my finger
like the first cup of coffee
on a cold winter day.

But tonight
there is just the boat
the small whir of the heater
and the black
relentless sea.

Janet C. Phelan
copyright 2007