There's a Hole

There's a hole

In the boat

Of my soul

That I cannot now repair.

A rending, a mortal crack

through which dark cold flows

I bail, and I strive, and I row

Through the hissing waves

For I know

That finally, tired beyond tired 

When I haul up panting

On the firm welcome sand

Familiar-faced fishermen

with work-scarred hands

Will mend that

Hole

In the boat

Of my soul