I learned to love folding a boat 

out of a single piece of loose leaf.

I’d make the mast high & sometimes 

would add a toothpick & tinfoil sail

but every time I launched the yacht 

the voyage was an utter failure—

grounded on mossy rocks or scuttled

between the bars of the creek’s culvert. 

And in my dreams I’d hear 

them scream. All the imaginary

micro-machine people who had boarded 

my boat with the best intentions—

intending to find a new life, 

or at least one better than this.

And the next day I’d fold. Walk

to the creek. And then I’d launch.

Zebulon Huset

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Zebulon Huset is a public high school teacher, writer and photographer. He won the Gulf Stream 2020 Summer Poetry Contest and his writing has appeared in Best New Poets, Meridian, Louisville Review, Smartish Pace, The Southern Review, Fence and others. He edits the prompt-based Sparked Literary Magazine, which is back from hiatus in 2026.

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