by Wryly T. McCutchen
I rock in my lock
and dip my brown big end in, heaves down
the cold pull of forward sculpts
each repeat motion cuts circles between the ocean.
Does propulsion really require a choice?
Must I in?
Must I out?
Must I trace salt drops through
Must I drag bubbles through the cold
But a ligature's lull of
wondering means disruption
and I know
I'll be hoisted overboard
if I'm not cog in the good little engine
whose functions you can always predict
so I choose.
And let the punctured gunwale I'm locked in
thrusts me into fulcrum.
I am machine
I am simplified
I can now be put to use.
Wryly T. McCutchen's poetry and nonfiction has appeared in Wilde Magazine, Alive With Vigor, The Prague Revue, and Raven Chronicles. They were awarded an MFA in creative writing with dual concentration in creative nonfiction and poetry from Antioch University and their first poetry manuscript, My Ugly and Other Love Snarls, is forthcoming from University of Hell Press.