Bio: William E. Cooper is a Distinguished University Professor and President Emeritus at University of Richmond, Richmond, VA

 

 

Poetry by Bill Cooper

 

 

THE CHRISTENING

 

Once a supertanker

Repaired, renamed

She now hauls ore

Explains the retired welder

Who sealed many a bulkhead

 

Longer than three football fields

She displaces over two hundred thousand tons

He notes, admiring the rust red hull

The black superstructure

The white deckhouse near the stern

She houses a crew of twenty one

Plus the usual array of computers

To guide her mammoth frame

 

She’s named Dong Fang Ocean

Her name points proudly east

Casual onlookers do not guess

She was christened otherwise

 

This early morning in bright sun

At sixteen knots she churns

The South China Sea

The same lane a few years ago

She lugged oil as The Mediterranean

 

The welder sighs, his eyes turn rheumy

He removes his cap to wipe his forehead

He sighs again

Summoning his strength to tell the rest  

 

Nearly twenty five years have passed

Since her christening, he notes

One hopeful Saturday in San Diego

The mid-morning sky

Piercing blue

Visibility severe clear

Much like now

 

Amidst customary fanfare

She was named sensibly enough

For the oil company that owned her

And the oil port from which she aimed to drink

 

Smartly dressed attendees

Altogether pleased

Toasted this gleaming giant

And christened her Exxon Valdez

 

 

INSULATION

 

The first time your bare foot

Slips on a concealed patch of mud

You almost stumble

But regain stride

In the race across the meadow

 

After barely winning the race

You glance backward

Recall the slip and grow wary

Not wary enough

 

Bare feet give way to

Sturdy insulators

Socks, track shoes

Loafers, maybe wingtips

Each sure stride

Takes you farther from 

The lesson of the mud

 

At odd moments

You sense a need for caution 

As you ride on soft leather

Humming Boccherini over tires

Guessing black ice might lurk

On the bridge just ahead

 

You squeeze a wedge of lime

Into the Virgin Mary

As your plane begins to descend

You pray the shearing winds abate

Yearning to be barefoot again