Many are from the Maldives,

southwest of India, and must begin

collecting shells almost immediately.

The larger ones may prefer coconuts.

Survivors move from island to island

hopping over one another and never

looking back. After the typhoons

have had their pick, and the birds of prey

have finished with theirs, the remaining few

must build boats, and in this, of course,

they can have no experience, they build

their boats of palm leaves and vines.

Once the work is completed, they lie down,

thoroughly exhausted and confused,

and a huge wave washes them out to sea.

And that is the last they see of one another.

In their dreams Mama and Papa

are standing on the shore

for what seems like an eternity,

and it is almost always the wrong shore.