On the Boat to Europe

Surrounded by water that they cannot drink,
Twenty-five people huddled in a boat,
The sound of the engine the only thing
They heard for miles and miles of the Atlantic.
He had been told not to eat if at all
He would become seasick. His stomach
Clenched and eased. If he opened his eyes
Long enough to welcome the July light
Maybe he would throw up. Sitting did not help.
Pulling his bundle to his chest did not help.
The smell of salt and bacteria whichever
Way he turned his neck. The faint stench of sweat.
Dilatory rippling of clouds all day long.

Faraway the persistent metallic cry
Of a blue grosbeak migrating southward.
A famished and thirsty man died on board
And the passengers debated whether
To throw his body into the ocean
Or keep it. His closed eyes. His open mouth.
One woman would not stop humming her prayers
To the gods of the water that want and want.
Some of them refused to look at the body.
No one mourned for it. No one lent it
A piece of their clothing to cover it;
All day the empty face embracing the sun.
Once in a while the splash of water
In their faces. Once in a while, laughter.
Only the singing woman did not laugh.
She continued to pray as if she believed
Her prayers had, all this while, kept the waters
From swallowing their rubber inflatable boat.