Smelling the glorious salty sea air
and standing upon the rugged cliffs...
I put myself in a little box
one that shuts...
Do not ask me to live.
You alone...
THE TABLE (an acrostic poem)
The table, engrained still life...
To see the soldiers dance with joy
For they were going home...
I remove my washable
face-mask and guiltily gulp...
i’m sorry i’m a cracked wall
i know...
This is not a dystopia
or some cataclysmic dream...
I know I let you down by breaking all your rules,
but will never be sorry for letting your secret...
Waves crest ahead, low and sullen,
but past the breakers the turbulent sea...
When Summer grew fruitful, we first knew
Where the ripe, delicious blackberries grew...
your tongue is the lands where
i harvest sugarcanes and dates...