#piers
On the weathered pier of Huntington
laid upon the salt licked beach,
the old, hull of a forgotten
ship. Split, for its wooden fruit. The juice
of our sweat becoming mist
while we walked the plank,
in suspense, between clouds and sea.
The knotted surface sore
from sun. Burnt backs float
on the waters of their green veins,
like Guamamela1 on the ***** river
banks. “NO ACCESS,” signs in red
and white lights, harshly beating
against the dark skin of the wood,
the memory of another life.
I remember, my Lolo and Lola
bending to the waves of people
pressed still in one space.
The one time, they could hold onto
my hands, I felt them shaking.
In tongues they resurrected
the island, said there none
of this exists.
Why did I laugh?
1. Filipino hibiscus
Dec 7, 2017
Dec 7, 2017 at 4:41 PM UTC
Feeling fail.
A shallow discontentment
only brought about
by the success of others.
Challenges conspire.
Everywhere I look
beauty and joy
laughing
mockingly.
My poor body,
weak and restless,
struggling to breathe
under the pressure.
Water surrounds me,
pounding in my ears,
and it is done.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 5:54 PM UTC