balance, tensely recovered, hovers there
quivering like a sick keel

far above, the engine coughs and retches, shuddering
the hull

stopped dead in the water and hanging there, prey 
to the waves

arms sway, paint-job peels, and metal rusts gently
shades of grey

needle rocking to and fro, so delicate, so fine
can never be still

in movement alone is its balance
The Teetering Woman
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