I woke with his taste, my fingers missed his skin, and my mouth missed his face, and in the pit of my torso I felt the weight, the absence, my hollow fate
There is a baby who is crying like a lion caught in barbed wire and he turns to me and now he looks like a cub who has just been snatched
The tour guide father shows the westerners Kaitak to distract them from the fact that his baby is roaring he tells them to wear their seat belts or there will be a 5000 dollar fine I wonder if its just that he doesn’t want to be held accountable for if the driver flips and we flip too
We’d be upside-down sailing through the air on a roller coaster loop with no track there
and the baby would cry The radio would play it’s canto-pop songs The lady next to me with the beautiful smile would scream The man with the purple glasses would be wearing purple glasses no more My laptop would fly
Considering my luck I’d probably take my last breath then quickly die and how nice it would be to fly just before I slept
I tell you you are the sea You tell me I am a spring in New York I am man-made woman maid construction site cut like ham served to slaves You are chimney smoke burning oak soaking in ash I flash you a smile like a yearning match You smile like leaves in the cold shaking with hope Holding on to your tree You stop me from singing my bird song all along, I’ve been: a burn on your thigh or your hip a slip of the tongue or maybe the lips You could be window but your curtains are always closed or drawn like a child’s crayon art I could be bike broken on the road or like the bones protecting the heart Please believe me as I pray to the dogs that I may turn into the spaces in between your lungs