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POEMS
AGUA SENSUAL
and every step becomes a musical note.
A lantern. A canyon. A canto.
An ache in the back of our hand.
A touch with a thousand names
and one we need most—
agua sensual.
But desire is only desire
when it finds its way
in the country inside two lovers—
I look at him,
and we move deep into what
we will do to each other.
SAILING TO
To Panagiota
Misfortune does not lessen however much you speak of it.
But there are pains that will not stay quiet in the heart.
—Cavafy, A Love
I hear your voice every evening,
a question, then another.
We have been fools.
Have let each other go.
Have gone to hidden ruins.
Violet yellows.
Have kept photos of where
the Trojans once stood,
where the horses of Achilles
once passed through,
to remember what
we both like.
Held on to the word Riza,
and never listened
to the music loud enough.
Now, we can’t return to
our stare looming in a bluesy field,
but I still imagine telling you
about my dream:
eating chocolate, vanilla, strawberry
and lemon sorbet with you.
I will sail until underneath
the tremble of the sea
(something to do with love)
there is salt water on your tongue.
