Ode to Being Absorbed

I think I would like to be
part of a trunk
that extends back to three or four years ago,
or a distant past that I will
partly connect with
the next tree over,
the shingle on a dilapitated roof,
somewhere on a coastline
that I’ve never walked on.

There,
a man in a long grey overcoat
will extend his fingery hand
to hold me,
and I am met alongside a book with an unhinged spine,
floppy like the ears of a soft dog,
and grey green like moss in winter.

He has no smile,
but his eyes betray lost happiness.
There is a wilderness behind him,
but he has only ever known the ocean.

I tell him
to go back to the treeline
instead of the foam that he so adores,
but only single syllables can
exit his mouth:

yes,
left,
go,
stay,
light.

The name of the sea is petunia,
and he spells this out with me on the sand,
but says “pet”,
and so we play with her like a dog;
flickering her wave tails and trying to catch her as she grabs me,
fetches us back conches and seaweeds.

I did not dissolve again
into the tree,
but I wanted to so much.
then again—
so would the day,
and he wasn’t complaining.

Copyright 2017 Golden Star Poetry

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Jasmine

The first breath in the morning,

and oh,

how that smile

which so seemed

jasmine

to a broken eye.

Myself, and the water above my head

singing of the only song

that was,

a face.

a rainfall monsoon spread to india today.

A girl was seen rushing up the street

soaking her dress,

and i thought

of myself

when,

dragged beneath the sea comb of the beach

my hair dragged and rippled up in knots

you were my first love

and now her eyes stare into mine

that girl,

tossed inside the waves of rain

whispered

“he is gone,

and a jasmine blossom

now drowns in the river”.

Copyright 2014 Golden Star Poetry