Ghost Ship
This empty ship should be cut loose to drift
My ancient anchor dropping down to depths
And I will be riding waves before it hits
Carried by a barely there breeze moving
Magic nothing billowing the lining of my chest
Because there is something starboard to be found
To fill me even if it is only the salty air scent of sunburn death
I will sail onward until then turning toward my shifting plot of land with
Or without an X that marks the spot where I must stop at journey’s end
–A.R.
Ghost Ship by Serge Sunne
sometimesihatemycat 
were these lines arranged to ‘draw’ the hull of the ship (and its rudder) submerged in the water, or am I just reading too much here …?
I am always very aware of the visual form of a poem. Sometimes overtly so, and sometimes I just know what looks aesthetically “right” for the particular piece. That was the case here. So I would say, you may be right…subconsciously I may have created the form to mirror that image, even if not purposefully.