THE NIGHTBOAT LETTERS
By Jennifer Chapis
My sister worries where the bats will sleep
once we sell our canoes.
It’s both sad and funny
like being beat up by your grandmother.
Alternatives to losing a hat in a fight
or out a moving window:
The woman standing behind us on the night boat to Mwanza,
eating organic quinoa salad
out of a plastic bag,
was sacrificing everything to build a school.
Tires and other objects are also verbs.
Dear Waters Black as the Monkeys Climbing Trees in my Head,
Mind if I kiss you hard
to see what you’re hiding?
Dear Wind the Same Temperature as my Face,
Dear Dog with Ears that Flap like Curtains,
Please forgive bursting upon impact the invisible sailboat.
Absent father rocking in my arms someday
will make a tiny fist.
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