Sea-otter (for Angeline)

His mind, sensing self-doubt,
seeks it out, pursues it down
the twists of a metal tube, bursting
like blood in a glass jar.
With the air full of smoke and sweat
the others toil to keep up with the
coal-train as it squeals and
growls and belches its way
above the tree-line, across
canyons on creaking trestles,
hoping for a watershed, a thought,
a favourite thing to bring this
gut-churning journey to an end
by calm waters where they can contemplate
the sea-otter embarked on his
lonely voyage of self-discovery,
cracking certainty with a stone
balanced on his breath.