Port Side

Everything is backwards in the world of rowing, they/
we love this story, it lends a modicum of superiority

to an otherwise un-superior sport, while tying in they/         
we may say something like, Try playing football back-

wards! Or Try sailing a regatta while never looking
where you’re going! This petulance is not completely

baseless, rowing was the sport from which a hero was
made, it was the national sport, not football, that was 

of course, until football…(the first rowing match—1756)                   
the first football match—1869).  And yes, there were 

other sports where athletes mused with the backward            
motion, but not like rowing—we were taught to fly blind.

If they/we rotated our heads to the left or right at all, they/          
we could be chastised by the coxswain over a loudspeaker 

so the rest of the boat could hear how you/you jeopardized        
the stability of the entire boat. All this to be considered, I

wasn’t there to become a hero, nor to exert proud superiority       
over anything, not lineage, not rival sports, not the boat, nor

other novice rowers, but I did want to move backwards. I
wanted to feel the earth move before me in the wrong 

direction. I wanted to go back in time before all this started,        
and I was willing to break open my skin over the oars 

to see it happen. I wanted to feel hours upon hours and             
distance stretch out before me. I wanted to see the river

swallow it all up, without hesitation or struggle, I wanted          
 it all to turn murky, stuck, entangled, so it could never re-

emerge again. I wanted the boat to keep gliding somewhere          
I couldn’t see, as long as it was away, and the heartbeat 

of the rowboat—mechanized, linked, erasing identities—           
shrinking each of us into one-eighth of an entity no one

had complete control over, a daily surrender, I wanted that        
too, as long as I wasn’t one whole of all of myself. I wanted

to feel empty hunger and thirst and emptiness—the physical     
manifestation of emptiness instead of where I had been.

COLE W. WILLIAMS has writing forthcoming in North Dakota Quarterly and Ran Off With the Star Bassoon. Her piece, “The Godwin Essay” was recognized by the International Human Rights Arts Festival’s Creators of Justice Award; 2021. Williams will be attending the 2022 Bread Loaf Environmental Conference.