X

I bury a jewel each night inside his chest
where he'll never find it
secret treasures
where my tongue draws salt-line kisses on
forbidden ships,
always sailing away
faithfully


I pirate my own heart from my
very own hands
and send it, thumping
down the plank

X marks the spot

X marks the spot

This Memorial Day Weekend

I watch a little girl at the park
fly a pink and yellow kite
mouth wide, glancing behind her
as she lets the line loose

The kite points to the sky and rises
above her lifted chin
sun-in-the-eye squint
a diamond dancing behind her like a ship sail
the tail of a Chinese dragon

With a few more steps the nylon arrow
nosedives to the earth
barely making a sound

I imagine my own hands as smooth
and quick as hers
as she waits for another gust of wind
and starts running