Captive

As I have my fill from a bountiful table

My mind is at unrest, my thoughts unstable.

I do not know how I got here, or when I got here.

I am confused. Should I cheer or shed a tear?

About sailing clueless am I, at its superlative extent.

But why does the stranger seem surprised—name is Kent.

(I took a walk on the beach after my morning meal

Putting together myself and what I feel.)

I said I live with the sirens as a guest, I am served excellently.

Said I, “I’m curious about sailing. Please. Tell me.”

Kent told me about boats, patiently answering queries

About bows, sterns, masts, and sails to release.

Then he asked, “Do you recognize me not?”

I answered, “No sir. Sorry about that.”

“I understand,” replied he. Then he patted me,

“I’m taking a walk every morning, if you wish to speak to me.”

(Sailing, Poem 4)