The weather drops off on the Chesapeake br and shallow gray waves fall on gray waves br outside the window of our clapboard br where I live with you my water fowl, br my love shy husband sullen and colorless br two steps from the end of the continent. br br The low, flat curves of the dredge hills br and sober, noisy roll of the bay, br the folded ankle socks on fishmongers, br my bra straps lowered for my husband br whose eyes roll beyond my shoulders br to the wet plants and pots stuck outside. br br I burn a Marlboro in my fingers; br my husband opens a paint tin, br wets the blue brush, drips a green br across spaces of sea blank ardor. br I throw away relics of a life br that no longer exists. br br I am resigned by age and temper br to a loveless lover; I imagine br a capzised swimmer far from shore br who does not turn toward home; br a sea bird snoring on the wind, br open mouthed for ambient rain br and a salt rinsed masque of seawater.