Form and Feeling

Suddenly I was in our house again.

Someone was telephoning about the removal.

It will all be handled. Good, good.

Turns out a one-person sailboat

had been stranded

in the doorjamb between

the bedroom and the hall.

It would need to be angled just right

to navigate the predicament.

A downed sail lay whitely over the skiff.

A smell began to bloom

beneath the wood. The sea

had all drained away.

And if the experts don’t arrive?

Will living have to encompass this?