The speaker in this extraordinary collection finds herself multiply
dislocated: from her childhood in California, from her family's roots in
Mexico, from a dying parent, from her prior self. The world is always in
motion--both toward and away from us--and it is also full of risk: from
sharks unexpectedly lurking beneath estuarial rivers to the dangers of
New York City, where, as Limón reminds us, even rats find themselves
trapped by the garbage cans they've crawled into.
In such a world, how should one proceed? Throughout Sharks in the
Rivers, Limón suggests that we must cleave to the world as it
"keep[s] opening before us," for, if we pay attention, we can be one
with its complex, ephemeral, and beautiful strangeness. Loss is
perpetual, and each person's mouth "is the same / mouth as everyone's,
all trying to say the same thing." For Limón, it's the
saying--individual and collective -- that transforms each of us into "a
wound overcome by wonder," that allows "the wind itself" to be our "own
wild whisper."