Naval Engineering - Víctor Rodríguez Núñez

The wheel's star
                            freshly cut
from night's garden
The hull
                            evokes a violin
that's lost its strings
The mast blooms lightning
among orange clouds
Everything creaks in this boat
my son has painted

For my father
                            the captain
                                      I write boats
Might my father be the dream I had
when I slept in Cayama
upon my mother's tiny pillow?
They are made of paper
and wreck only
                            when not inflamed by ink

Boats rising
                            from ocean's floor
Boats docking
at the gates of heaven
Aimless boats
                            sailing from nowhere to nothing

---

Víctor Rodríguez Núñez (born 1955) Cuba
Translated by Katherine M. Hedeen
Source: Arc Publications