Lights like fireflies trapped in cans, hang
from frays of woolen string on a ceiling
bent from cracked planks into the shape
of a mushroom’s cap, an umbrella boat.

Underneath the molded oak sits the oars, sunk
half in the sand; a tattered cloak wraps a back
warped from the wet algae of the sea into the
shape of a green tortoise shell, an umbrella boat.

A chest on his chest, and a crown on his crown
protects his head and lays just ahead of the
waterline that creeps down the rotten ceiling
to a curled spine stuck to gold, an umbrella boat.