A Boat in the Forest, by Thomas Lux

Sixty miles from a lake,

no river or pond within forty-eight,

no ocean near,

and this rowboat, crisply painted, oarlocks

oiled, oars set and cocked,

in a small--mossy, pine needles--clearing

of sparse gray and yellow forest grass.

The light here: like joy, pain, like glass.

On its bow, in red paint, beside the anchor rope,

its name: A Joy To Be Hidden

But a Disaster Not To Be Found.

An odd place, a long name, for a boat.

From “New and Selected Poems” by Thomas Lux. (Houghton Mifflin: 177 pp., $23) Copyright 1997 Reprinted by permission.