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One Absent Boat

No one notices
one boat's absence
the rivermaster is busy dying anyway
the docks are as always, the warehouses 
as always and the helligan boatmen
in their hooting and spitting
unflappable and fewer each morning
What day is this?
What river is this?

The surviving captains
tie the Blood Bight Hitch
consult cloud charts, starfish entrails
to track it, the predator 
scything through the jungle:
Four more to die by dusk
three through the night

Here and there
along the epidemic alleyways 
encroaching with lianas
the fevered faces 
mouth wordless as fish
suffocating in a basket
up to an indifferent sky
so many leaving, none alive
save Nazirah and Ekimi
no one notices
one absent boat

 

The Congo Perhaps

Nazirah on the prow
in bloodblack vestments
she's on point with the rifle
for soldiers and bandits
Ekimi's hands gamble in the wheelhouse
dodging submerged wrecks 
and the banks that conceal catastrophe 
beneath bowing ferny skirts

Behind a bend
gutted Kikwit vanishes
a wide safe stretch 
unfurls before the boat
Kwamouth days ahead, then Kinshasa
then perhaps anywhere 
For the first time in weeks
could be lifetimes
they unclench storklike
shoulders and eyes
raggedly starve into each other

burial rituals, usually involving washing or disembowelling by loved ones, complicate attempts to fight the spread

because of fear, families abandon bodies of their dead instead of burying them. Reports of 30 unburied victims have been received