Our First Boat Lay With its Back
in the sand of Moonlight Bay.
At low tide we braved the slimy
seaweed and Man-O-War to climb
its slippery ribs. The little boys,
as Dad called them, stayed ashore
making sinking rafts of palm fronds,
driftwood, and fishing line they’d found.
While we feigned the skeleton
was the capsized hull of a cabin
cruiser, and the Sergeant Majors
at our toes were the man-eaters
that ate the legs of the pilot
who had ejected a mile out.