You were wearing that
Orange paisley two piece
that tied at the waist
You didn’t want to wear them
You said you hated shorts
But that you had to
Because we were going to be late
–
You were the last to get on the boat
I remember looking up at you
from down on the deck
I was four
so it seemed to me 
that the pier was very far away
–
My grandfather warned all the children
not to touch the rope
Don’t touch the rope he said
With his hands on his knees
He levelled his face up with mine
Do not touch the rope
He said
It’s very dangerous
It’ll rip your hand off
He let us watch
as the weight of the boat
rising and falling with the tide
made that rope creak under the strain
He said
notice the power of the water
The power the water had over the boat
Over the rope
And then you tried to step on the boat
I thought you would fall
He reached for your hand
And so did I
I forgot about the rope
I put my hand on the rope
I put my hand in the rope
And the tide
pulled the water from the boat
The rope once slack
Now taught
Like two plates of steel
In a mechanised press
Snap shut
My hand between them
You screamed before I even understood what had happened
But he has hands the size of dinner plates
Thick as bear paws
Strong as ten men
And I watched him as he pulled those ropes apart
As my fingernails were ripped from my hand
I saw them flung into the ocean
Into the lapping waves
He was so strong
He was hydraulic
it seemed to me
he lifted the boat and everyone on it
He looked at my hand
scanning the damage
The man of iron
defeated
Pale
White
like my finger tips
My auntie ripped off her scarf
and filled it with ice
I still don’t remember how you got on the boat
but I remember the Orange paisley two piece
that tied at the waist
and i thought it looked nice