NIGHT BOAT TO MWANZA
By Jennifer Chapis
Dear Waters Black as Monkeys
Climbing Trees in my Head,
Mind if I kiss you hard
to discover what you're hiding?
Dear Wind the Same Temperature as my Face,
Dear Footsteps of Water Striders,
Please forgive, bursting upon impact,
the indiscernible sailboat.
I craft blind spots
to believe the world exists.
It's both sad and funny,
like getting beat up by your grandmother.
The woman eating quinoa salad
out of a Ziploc
is sacrificing her house to build a school.
I worry where the bats will sleep
once her old canoes are sold.
<