it is snowing in april
and i am finding your hair in the sink
i used to brush it off your face
as you planted kisses on me
like queen anne’s lace
littering the side of the river
you used to laugh as i spat it out
swimming with my mouth wide open
as if i could catch a stream in my fists
and ask it to stay
i let it swirl down the drain
letting the rest of you return to sea
.
adonai does not speak my tongue
so i tried to find it between your lips
desperation settled into my bones
nestled like dust between old polaroids
i could spend months
with my eyes closed
my fingers wrapped tightly
around yours
when i awoke i still felt like
a stranger in my own skin
foreign to the touch
.
i was born to the credit august 1996
a century after the british
took the harbour and the island
one day i’ll return to her arms
welcomed by the watercress and minnows
as the airbag and seatbelt hold me tight
falling at a rate slower than 9.81m/s2
i have a hard time distinguishing
between being weightless
and drowning