Lampedusa

I rose with the wave,

almost swallowed by

salt gulp;

rubber and rope hold

close fit of my form

to pressure blown hulk,

deflated of hope.

She too rises, bobs

with a new given face

cast of night, wave

and searchlight,

not her own,

not my sister:

a grey blue dot

marking sentence between continents,

this life and,  the next.