A poem from my friend Becca. I love this one. Go seek her chapbook Greener (or order email@example.com). We co-edit Clementine together and are hoping for a new issue soon.
203 East 4th
I write you from a dense island.
Ships skirt the pratfall shore then grow
distant -- I grow inventive, pray radio
sleeps in the coconut's core. Can
waves refuse what they carry, manage
without baggage? I've lost how to row.
Flat palms vise the hot air, sostenuto.
The same sun that drowns rises, dripping.
Shells protrude like tusks or oars;
I string colors together, rope starlet
necklaces of auger, cuttlebone. Sweat
salts my eyes to tears -- that, and the hours
spent alone. You might forget
me completely. I write you from regret.
-Alicia Rebecca Myers