fish in the water

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Night on the river, they sing,

burro in the shadow, waiting,

Mesa de Anguilla,

a cold wind,

a firelight,

woodsmoke on the air above,

candleflame on the plain below.

Night on the sea, they sing,

lap the hull, water, homeward bobbing,

Bahia Concepcion crystalline and hot,

jaunty octopus butcher,

drunk on mescal,

lanterns glowing at the bow—

a torchlight procession.

Black widows in the palapa.

Scorpion in the tent.

In both cases the water.

In both cases the water.