The Passenger's Allowance

1. Twelve pears for the insured deck,
each one wrapped against bruising.
The cook keeps the smallest
for the window watch.

2. Six bottles of water
marked for palate, not thirst.
The labels shine so cleanly
they look like a second supply.

3. One room with a garden feed
set to a world that never rains.
Passengers sleep beneath leaves
grown by somebody else's light.

4. Fourteen blankets,
ranked by ticket class.
The lower hold has a heater
that clicks all night
without warming the bunks.

5. The steward asks whether
we can spare the pears.
I count them twice.

6. No one has stolen anything.
The manifest is correct.
The crossing is expensive.
The people at the landing
have been eating boiled grain
for three days.

7. We send the pears first,
then blankets, then water.
I keep one bottle back
for the watch, who says
she can drink the local rain.

8. At dawn the garden feed
shows a green hill.
It never has to rain there.
I let it run while we work.

The fruit goes warm
in a stranger's hands.
No one calls this moderation.
No one returns the labels.