I get scared when I think
big ships,
ocean liners
with multiple pools.
Which deck is safe
in case of hail,
in case of volcano?
39 straight days of rain
do not a refund make.
To be untethered,
to be without walls—
ideas can’t bounce
off salt air alone.
An absence of ideas
can’t turn a propeller.
And these people,
eating their
baked ziti and waiting
for cheesecake—
I get scared.
Rob Macdonald lives in Boston and is the editor of Sixth Finch. His poems can be found in Octopus, notnostrums, Sink Review, esque, H_NGM_N and other journals.