perhaps, already you have sailed
far away across the ocean. as for me,
i shall be spending the afternoon reading
poetry my ancestors wrote
about me. look! i have new wings!
i am now immune to shipwreck and
cannot be swallowed by sea.
i forget that the night goes through
youngness first, then stars burst
to hide a clear but subtle treachery.
and like the soil that cries, I miss the tears
running sensual fissures,
crawling like insects on earthskin.
i miss you, milk-haired raspberry sky,
and your deep rind revealing
darkness in-between reaches of burning tongue.
— A. P.