This new year dawned cool and full of fireworks. The night
sky is always a cathedral of stars we can barely acknowledge
beyond the trend of LED brightness trickling from streetlamps.
You wonder about the bird sitting on the telephone pole all night
bathing in light, brown wings black in the stillness. Coolness
of dry season pleasantries means you can finally sleep, without
becoming a pool of nothingness, dripping in hurricanes
and you go to work on dreams and herbal tea, and days of
the sand being kissed over and over by the sea, that’s how
islands become a self-fulfilling prophecy. Rocks in an ocean
cradled in archipelagos. How can we say anything is ours?
You want to live, so you throw on the bright colours of
flagged skies and take a deep breath. This is it. Outstretched
clear blue everything. You embrace the unchanged like a reliable lover.