I hear the carve of oars,
I see your palms enfold the wood,
as shards of stars shred
a black and glistening wave.

I hear the carve of oars,
the shore is breached,
we reach dank granite stairs, climb
a tower in moon gritty light.

I hear the carve of oars,
you speak, your turgid cheek
blue-steel-gray, your gaze grates,
my salt raged eyes summon waves and stars.

I hear the carve of oars,
waves rattle a candle's flame,
chill the bed frame, the wet stony room ––
the door closes, it scrapes.

I hear the carve of oars.
I know your lurching gate,
the clank as oar lock’s turn.
You slip the shore.
I hear the carve of oars

Copyright © 2002 Gary Brocks

HALF!  HALF!  THREE-QUARTERS!  LENGHTEN!  FULL!
The coxswain roars at the start of the race
Telling us to pry and to pull
And not to slow from race pace
Speeding through the 750 meter mark
About to pass the other boat
Going underneath the second arc
Passing the cruise with a single quote
The coxswain saying "within you you have the power to win"
We have passed the other team
But we keep on going with strokes as sensuous as a violin
To us this is a dream
We have finally taken the lead!

I think
I'm finally
In a place
Where being so sore
That walking up
A flight of
Thirteen stairs
Makes my legs burn
Feels good to me.

They say I'm getting stronger.
I think they're right.