10,000 Islands

Mangrove roots
Coated in oyster shells—
This is a border
As surely as between Ciudad Juarez and El Paso del Norte
Between sleep and waking
Between the evening star and his wife the morning star
Between the living and the dead
This is the border
Between land and water
That first division
After darkness and light

The mind may be persistent
Even more so the mangrove roots
Red, black, white
A mangle
Where pods propagate by floating
Into the tea dark water
The anaerobic soil, the marl
Breathing tubes in the brackish bay

Shell islands
Left by those long gone—
You’ll try and see the pattern,
Let the eye
Arrange a meaning
10,000 islands printed on the day
Like 10,000 cranes on kimono fabric

I longed for departure
As if it were love
As if it would take me out
Of myself, away from the accustomed—
Sandbar of white pelicans
Lifts off, wheels into the sun
Silver flash of fish before the prow
Maze of low islands, one after the other,
Gives way
To open water.