Joe Betz

Washed up on a Boat made of Leaves 

Curved lines drawn in red clay
with a broken
piece of driftwood helped me

fit in along the Ivory Coast.
As a white
man I feel a piece of what

different is, when the only
white I see
is in the eyes of six children

watching, hidden behind a gray
tree in dust
brown cloth below the waist,

their bodies thin bones
and strong black,
sweat beading of their coarse hair

as they laugh and click their
curiosity to me,
waving "hello"

to a tree holding clouds.