In Fort Dauphin, Madagascar by Gino Sabatini
Pirogues with burlap-made sails
carry fishermen back to port over
walls of water that forever
beat on the bow of the Wellborn
lying at the bottom of the middle of the bay.
The wind blows consistently in Fort Dauphin:
shipwrecks on shore lie like victims
all the way to Evatra
the beach is trashed and crushed.
In Fort Dauphin everything is old, broken, or rusted
including the men, the women, and especially
the young children.
It’s Sunday in Fort Dauphin… and the only thing you can count on
is the wind, strong wind.