At Sea

I catalogue my children
and where they are;
my sisters, nephews, nieces,
my aunts and cousins.

I make a mental map
with range and vectors,
figure times,
searching always for signs
of weakness.

No surprise I am shaking with cold,
my stomach queasy.
To put is simply: I'm scared!

When sirens sound, I count.
I’m not where I’m supposed to be
and, therefore, guilty.

My score of don'ts adds quickly.

At least, I own a boat and what is more,
I'm letting my boat drift gently
away from shore.

If I’m lucky, I won’t be caught.