We sleep in huts
made of leafy green branches,
all the children sneaking out
at midnight
to chase red crabs,
watch enormous turtles,
and dream beneath
glowing stars
as they glide
across dark sky
forming the ancient shapes
of magnificent constellations—
a winged horse, a dolphin,
a dragon, the Milky Way.
Does that hunter made of stars
use his arrows to shoot ordinary deer,
or is he seeking treasures that no one on Earth
has ever imagined?
Maybe all he wants to chase is the glow
of his own heavenly surroundings.
Stories come easily
as I combine old fairy tales
with my own curious rush
of new visions.
While stargazing in the wilderness,
I remember the tales of A Thousand and One Nights,
and then I change them.
Don Quixote.
Spain’s Golden Age poets.
Native Miskito legends.
All are fair game when it comes to hunting
for unwritten star wishes.