The Launch

The Launch

by Linda Aldrich

painting by William Conor, Belfast, 1922-23 

A gritty shipyard in sepia, texture of rust, 

like an old idea of something remembered. 

Men in wool caps and suspenders, homespun

patchwork of busy arms and legs, faces turned 

away from us, letting go of what they’ve made: 

the massive ship perched above them, ominous

with the weight of so much hope pounded into it. 

Gravity will take it down the slipway to be born

stern-first, a breech birth, and who’s to say

what that portends? The long face of the ship 

gives nothing away, but its eye seems to carry 

a far look over what it is leaving, the prow sharply

tapered to a wedge, an iron axe designed to part 

the waters, to part people from each other, to split

countries from themselves, slice hearts clean through. 

No matter the flag, the ship will take away 

much more than it will ever bring back.