Palangkaraya

Kalimantan, unlike Jakarta, has no beggars
to speak of. It also has no sea breeze.
Few are wealthy save a few lucky
gold miners and politicians—whose biggest
contribution is polluting the rivers
and public officials.
 
We sleep in a cabin over the stables.
The horses, snorting loud, talk to one another
as dark falls. One of the mares, about to foal,
bangs against her stall, shaking my bed. There’s a crack
under the front door big enough
for a cobra to get through. Too tired to care,
I sleep soundly, dreaming of a man
I once knew in Montana who was calling me
on the phone. His laughter, like a blanket,
holds me until dawn.