Close to the End

I was in a shell boat,
in one transient wave of ooze;
the ooze of spinal fluids, hands, feet and fingers of
my brothers and sisters and
their brothers and sisters.

I had a slotted spoon for an oar,
a lifejacket 
and my ship,
my Nina, Pinta, or Santa Maria
dumped me in the pool,
the pool of my family.
                                                               
I front-floated to shore,
o the end of my driveway, my
family home on garbage night and
I cried for the mothers and fathers of my 
brothers and sisters who floated in the street,
no one to write a eulogy but me.