Clinging to a raft,
his legs in the water,
Jack makes Rose promise
she will never let go,
she’ll die an old woman,
warm in her bed,
not here, not now,
on that bitter cold night,
floating in the North Atlantic.

When Rose keeps her promise
I cover my mouth, shift in my seat,
awed by the girl on the screen.

How did she let go?
Release Jack’s body to the dark ocean
let the dead sink and be swallowed.

Why not stay adrift?
Hands clasped with grief.

How did Rose reach for that whistle,
blow and blow through the fog.

How can I let go?

Let the universe
swallow your death
while I reach for a whistle.



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