Deck, Stranded

By: Shou Jie Eng

Lay like whale over a course of salt

wear coats of oil, lay warm latitudes

raise gardens of ice where posterior

and up lie uneasy. Unwind over deck

coats of oil, worn latitudes belaying

triple strands, laid hemp ends

unwinding over deck. Lie uneasily

in quarters, pitching, fingers unstranding

where laid hemp took their triple ends

knowing that, far from home, the body

lies in quarters, pitching, slowly unstranding

the line between body, body, and water

knowing that, far from home, your body 

is nothing, only a one-three-hundredth lay

that the line between body, body, and water

like marline, displaces approximately

nothing. Only a one-three-hundredth lay

for the hand that lays a boarding knife

proximal to flesh—not marlin—displacing

everything. Pay them their share

for the hands, their lays, their boarding knives

pay them their share of the whale, for

everything. Pay them their share:

to the hands, mates, and smiths

a fraction of oil, bone, baleen.

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Shou Jie Eng is an architectural designer, researcher, and writer. He runs Left Field Projects, an art and design practice located in Hartford, CT. His writing has appeared in Tupelo Quarterly, Softblow, and CARTHA, and has 

been collected in anthologies as New Singapore Poetries, and Ritual and Capital. He teaches drawing and representational topics at the Rhode Island School of Design.