the sea's first cousin

a little remains dangling, splash of wild
in flowers and fish scale roofs, a moonchild -

to see clearly one must cross a frontier
cross the street, visit the chocolatier

to a door that knows everything
from your eyes - listen to songs of redwings

wait for me, the stars; I've something to say
taking street lamps hostage, picking bouquets

I'm impatient for the river to flow
by my door delivering a boat to row

so I don't have to walk far to escape -
Scheherezade will tell my story, shape

her sister's while I recline by the pond
watching frogs, goldfish, comedy beyond

the burned night and tragic morning endings
skip my kisses, write your own stories, sing

without ever seeing dawn light coming
I missed them, too, the dead with hands stroking

our midnight prayers; they knew and I'm sorry
I slept before writing their history

little by little I'm changing into
cold castles and decaying stories through

moss grown towers - so sweet skies filling my
chest with this rare air, frescoing blue my

thirsty skin