the land i am from,
how i wish to preserve it in such a matter that
i could keep the dehydrated oceans from
enclosing my crisp pigmented limbs.

the light cannot be reflected from wings in the dark.

hang up your coat by the door, you say.
pin up the membranes of your past under the glass.

radiate upon me as hues pump through my vessels, old and new.
as i seek for the land i am from, a land with you.