The cuttlefish have gathered in your honor
and I’ve lined my eyes with their ink,
fixed my hair the way you liked the least.
A silent way of saying I have no regrets
no apologies for the wet footprints on the
wooden hallway of your tongue.
A carpetbagger journeying south
to loot and plunder the underworld of bliss.
What shall we call ourselves now?
Found objects in the army of salvation.
Two demons have huddled at the
peepholes of my breasts. I drown them out
with a pint of semen. A jackfruit from the
lowlands in my hands. You owe me this
testimony. I owe you the moon. They’ll
wring my neck by the fire and call it worship.
They’ll scrape the residue from the sides
of my hips and call it desire. It’s no longer safe
to say that I never walk alone. A clown coaxing
laughter from the ocean’s lips. A pair of gilded
fins rocking in the dark. When the water stings
the skin we name it salt. Oval shapes seen
floating in the sea’s blue hair. Toenails washing
ashore like shells. My feet no longer intact.
A Glimpse Of An Island
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