The first night we sleep together
In your new Zeno hammock I dream
We’re suspended between walnut trees
On each side of the creek bank,
The hammock’s fancy fly allows
Us to stay dry in a fierce downpour,
My dream stretches out like Einstein’s
Space and I can feel the anchors of the trees
Begin to slip from the rooted earth.  We hear
Vague crashings and Spanish voices
Calling out, we pull back the flap to see
A raft-full of huddled mass rising up on a wave
As tall as the trees, the roar breaks over us:
It’s half as close and half again and half again
An infinity of haves and have-nots
Pure as the puzzle of life as we’re swept
Toward the Sea of Refugee