No Aurora

No Aurora

The hope was to see the northern lights
This boat
perched here
in the belly of some pointless Canadian lake
lazily drifting
bobbing in the pockmarked scar of glacial adolescence
exaggerated ripples passing for waves
keeping hollow aluminum time
standing watch
over bobbers
hurled like excuses,
lines tangled,
forgotten.

My neck sore but only just
his, more so, but always

heads awkwardly craned skyward
to offer to the eye
unobstructed
the sacrifice of these stars upon the altar;
light so unfathomably ancient
resplendent
casting not so much as a reflection
having traveled so far for so long
a wave tonight,
the question settled at last
I am certain of it.

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