This is how I would speak to you

For Shelley Tiera Devereaux

This is how I would speak to you

Were you born a sailor?
or is it just the curl in your hair
that makes you
one with the ocean,
when you are on your ship
to survey the ancient landscape
hidden under the blue sheets
untouched by the light.

Was it you,
who taught the ocean how to swim?
the waves how to kiss?
(lavish are the kisses,
sucking every thing
under their lips,
and the shore).

And Is it true that
sun rests in your smile
on the stormy days.

And did your hands hear my soul sing?
And will your eyes remember mine?
Tell me, did you see me
pulling the moon
from a dried up well?

Flowers are blooming on my chest,
My mustache is reading poetry to the port
that you will arrive,
and my pants are dancing to a song
(will you join them?)

I don’t know you,
You who is far from the land
that I have made my home
among shadows,
among souls yet,
This is how I speak to you,
when you wear that blue uniform,
sleeves rolled up,
in the pacific ocean,
eyes fixed on lonely hours of your soul,
remembering that one moment you held my hands
and the kiss I lay upon them
on that night
when I was younger than a second,
older than time,
wearing a hat made out your light.

Washington, D.C.

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