The Ship Is Me

This is my ship:
its creaking bow
is mine own.

Its hands mine,
the planks of its deck
my ribs.  Its captain
my captain, my heart
spinning like the helm
in his hands.  Check
my conscience for
latitude and longitude,
my throat for the letters
S-O-S.

I feel the rising weather
in my bones
as the waves fondle its breast,
my hull.