Month: March 2018


Her cupid-bow lips parted and uncurled the duvets in the ocean. Rolling her wrists, she let the silk waves ripple against the base of ships. Rudders grazing seaweed nets pushed the ship on. Sometimes I think I can see her in the expanse of the sky, where the stars glimmer onto the waves.

Someday, I wait by the docks with my right ear facing the horizon. Leaning slightly over the wooden slabs, I listen for a siren. Inflections and tones crashing on to the waves, I imagine her dark hair and full lips greeting land and sea.

You’ve come onto this island, merely looking for a way to run away, but question why I stay. I’ve guarded the whitish sands of scuttling turtles and dexterous crabs. With the shade of the tree, an old man plays his lute aware his body will wash into the waves when he is ready to die. I’ve guarded the flowers parachuting themselves onto the ocean, and the burnt pyres sailing where the sun billows out the horizon.




I am curving down the slope of a machete.

Silky brute cut – I aim for my heart.

I am tired of wanting –

holding my dreams with cold hands.

Dear creator,

I dream of death that crawls backward

on all fours – scouring –

tree, limb, tree.

Perched high, I am watching the moon

disappear behind navy waft clouds.

I want my machete blade,

Separating the world from me.


A place without a name

I’ve passed through cities

Without names in my memories

Their etched white letters

On green metal cascaded in car headlights

I pretend I am a whole person

Listening to the radio host

Brow on window

The coolness smooths my tight forehead

Crease folding in this pain

“Moving again?”, my friends ask

“Yes” I say, packing tiny lies

In my bags that we do this solely

Because we have to

Live for money

Pay our airfare to flutter away from

Feminine dreams

Of wanting to find home