Kelly Grace Thomas



I circle the page hungry          
as a boat

that can’t remember
land. My hollow

hull more female
than float.

I was told
He named me

boat. My body written
by greedy hands.

But maybe
I did it

to myself.
I greet this sea

with slow sadness
a sail I raise

without wind.
That wine glass

is another type of ship
The gust of grapes.

I have done it

all wrong.





As shown in [this link] below many comparisons have been made between the female form and ships/boats. This poem considers the way women live inside the many names they are given, and how they choose to name themselves. It examines the comforts (and distances) we turn towards when faced with the history of a body.