máncora, peru

all night i have slept with you
next to the sea, on the island.
wild and sweet you were between pleasure and sleep,
between fire and water. perhaps very late
our dreams joined
at the top or at the bottom,
up above like branches moved by a common wind,
down below like red roots that touch.

–

–

|34|
i wake up in an unfamiliar city to hear familiar news
– another black man in america, murdered by police –

the sunset bleeds as we reach the sea

–

–

perhaps your dream
drifted from mine
and through the dark sea
was seeking me
as before,
when you did not yet exist,
when without sighting you
i sailed by your side,
and your eyes sought
what now –
bread, wine, love, and anger –
i heap upon you
because you are the cup
that was waiting for the gifts of my life.

–

–

|35|
amongst beach shelves and marshmallow barnacles
and three-for-one mojitos,
we seem stronger than we are.

–

–

i have slept with you
all night long while
the dark earth spins
with the living and the dead,
and on waking suddenly
in the midst of the shadow
my arm encircled your waist.

neither night nor sleep
could separate us.

–

–

|36|
acknowledgment:
real-world work predicates unreal-world escape

–

–

i have slept with you
and on waking, your mouth,
come from your dream,
gave me the taste of earth,
of sea water, of seaweed,
of the depths of your life,
and i received your kiss
moistened by the dawn

–

–

as if it came to me
from the sea that surrounds us.

–

–

credit: night on the island by pablo neruda