Stoneboat

F fills his stoneboat
with iceeyes
Sets out.

But furyrowing
takes him nowhere.

Yet
after years or an instant
his stoneboat arrives in
memorious olive trees,
desquamated birches with moss coats,
fluorescent amsonia,
erethizontidae fur, quills, paw prints,
abandoned detritus.

There everywhere
A library of 1,299,827 souls (F counted).

He unloads his iceeyes
in years or an instant
eyes to each soul’s sockets.

The last pair, his grandmother’s eyes.

Her death date, his birth date
Her iceeyes

Now his eyes.