How to Catch a Caiman


Felipe's headlamp
sweeps the shore
until we spot the red eyes
glowing in the mangroves
like two live coals
Manuel cuts the motor
and we pretend to be a log
when suddenly
the cries of the toucans
the beating of bat's wings
are joined by the sound
of a thrashing tail
Felipe climbs out of the darkness
caiman in hand
displaying it like a trophy
one hand holding the tail
the other clasping the jaws shut
until Manuel can manage to
bind them with strong cord
chattering monkeys
swing from the ceiba's limbs
like Chinese acrobats
trying to make out
what is going on
even the sloth
curled up in a furry ball
is beginning to stir
my camera's flash illuminates
Felipe's giant smile
and the caiman held in his arms
like a dangerous baby
don't try this at home he says





Hollywood Rapids


the river wraps its fingers
round your paddle
and attempts to wrest it
from your grasp
to draw you down to where
the sleepers lie
amid a jumble of tires
and old roots
the catfish nibbling at their toes

from the cemetery on the bluff
the dead look down
impassive in their granite vaults
as you fly by
your paddle digging harder faster
the shoreline rushing by
in a blurry haze
until the current slackens
and you drift peacefully
raising your paddle in the air

once more you have outraced
the watery death
which will one day
overtake you





Bad News from the Doctor


Each illness is a submerged log
catching you unawares
after the last big rapid
as you drift with the current
the paddle posed across your knees
watching the ungainly herons
swoop down from the trees
observing the arc of the dragonflies
mating on the bow
the military precision of the geese
admiring the double landscape
of clouds and sky.
So engrossed are you
there is no time to brace yourself
against the shock.
One minute you  are whole and happy.
The next you're swimming for your life.