- Vol. 07
- Chapter 01
Between the waves and trees
And here is my home,
with a sun-kissed glow sliding beneath my chin,
and the roar of sodium marking the design of my palm,
A thousand years, I slept hear,
On this tiny island of melancholy and hope
Ivory breath slipping from the cheeks
and I produce a wave of chestnuts from the ocean.
A song so quiet,
I now call this place a season of spring.
A dandelion rests on my checked skirt,
and I sit and pray, watching the sky.
What is this place so surreal?
A place of god's own language,
A pivot. A poet's muse.
There are things broken over here,
Peels of fruits and leftovers of waves.
Just like your kitchen leftover's bread.
I smile at this place,
my home of autumn skies,
wrapped like lemongrass tickling my skin, on evenings.
I grew up on this tiny little island.
On the sand of broken twigs,
like women of my age. Lithe.
Between the waves and treesSlender shapes and walnut skin.
I ingest this home in my veins,
ingesting till the skin knows,
the wilderness of this place.