Ferry Boy
By Aaron El Sabrout
watch the water wander by
catch reflections of yourself
in security camera’ s black eye
parks of dog shit & ice slick
cement, children catch cold
plastic bars, ricochet back & forth
islands of mansions for miles
don't you ever wonder where rich people
come from, how they got there
who/how their ancestors
disappeared
and yours? as for his the ferry boy
he can’ t remember them
it's all just water to him
jade fading into blue fading
into grey sky.
No service,
the dead zone
a series of metal containers between us and the water
water i scrubbed
from my pores water
pouring from the upper deck water
crusted all inside of me
sealed off wax caps like
whale blubber ferry boy
land lubber he rubbin
on rocks he love em
lichen leaves or fingers fusing
crawling over skin in
to crevice & widening, probing
creating an entrance where
before there was none land
tubbin boy he drum his insides
from the stone
another boat passes alongside,
two ships traveling
against the grey
exchanging sodium light across
the rippling stillness mountained
distance lists
your hand warm
through my jeans i just want to lay
on your window charles bradley sax
scream spread open arms and bellies
he’s—i’m—we’re drifting together, ferry
boy pink eared peeking under cap
you’re braiding your hair over the headrest
eyebrow pencil island girl behind squints
and laughs he’s huddled against the bench
armrest and rests paws outstretched on
asphalt boat deck
the ferry rumbles
its own rhythm, pounding
deep under the water the whales
whistling along to our bass. hibernating
till the arrival announcement wakes us.
departure bay. where the woods leave,
list downstrait and float across the jetstream.
freighters like paper airplanes
dot the sky water, only white decks rising
from black hulls divide the horizon.
anchors scraping the reef displace starfish.
ferry boy takeout curry his
car full of boxes steam dripping down
the boat ramps grease handprints
the windshield the highway water
running at the speed of flickering light. coriander chili and turmeric warm car atmosphere.
the seagulls swoop beside to catch a whiff. ferry boy steam rice and drift.
Aaron El Sabrout (he/him) is a transgender Egyptian writer, artist, and activist currently living on unceded Stz’uminus territory (‘B.C, Canada’). At the beginning of the pandemic, he was living in Ooga Po’oge, on Tewa territory. He is a 2020 Obsidian Foundation fellow. His work has been published in Mud Season Review, Split Lip Magazine, and the Texas Poetry Review, among others. His work has also been featured in The BreakBeat Poets Vol. 3: Halal if You Hear Me, and We Want It All: A Radical Anthology of Trans Poetics.