BALSERO / RAFTER

What lures you to the lip of water,
dark in the night? Star glow, moon

riddles of light, gauzy, evanescence,
this charm of endless waves,

warm water, currents that take you
home toward the light? What?

Inner tubes, rope, plastic milk jugs,
the kind tourists bring and discard.

In one a hundred cucuyos, fireflies,
their green luminescence a needed

light under which to find the way
in such intensely ink-dark night.

Listen carefully to the sound of water,
for it speaks of the way to freedom.

Two bodies can fit on a slab
of Styrofoam, keeping each warm

in the southerly breeze, teeth chatter
or is this the sound of all the dead balseros
who braved the currents but didn’t beat
the odds? The moon blushing white?

Who is there to witness such difficult
crossings? Those who speak of water

in their mouths, opaque blue veil of eyes.