6 A.M., the hour of the serious fishermen
who stand quietly in orange slickers
as they sway slightly in the small boats
far out to sea. Those ancient warnings,
the pelicans, patrol the world closer at hand.
It is the hour when the nurse tries to wake my mother,
then lets her fall back again
into the sea. Some fish are not worth
the trouble. Asleep again, asleep again,
her heart rejoices. And the great escape continues,
alone, in darkness, far under the surface.