NaPoWriMo #20: Mild Island
but myself who criticizes notes
missed, almost captured by the voice
which is lonelier by the minute.
The water is peaceful, no argument
with the wind. It's a waiter
who's prepared to let me order
whatever's on the menu for free.
The palm trees' leaves play softly
a lullaby I resist with all my strength,
because I know that the stars
will entertain by diving off the sky
into the soft, green sea. I want
no one to land near me, to ask
that I help him get rescued,
each of us in it together to reach
the crowded, broken world.
No, I'd rather breathe slowly,
not thinking, centered in my chest
which is a celestial cabinet, letting
spirit rise and fall perfectly.
If he discovers a boat, hails it
with fires, I'll consider strangling
him, extinguishing the sad lights.
Except I know the earth is not
an enemy, and my island lives
wherever I go. Even as rescuers
try to squeeze a name out of me,
I am on the spot where the sun
doesn't move for hours, the clouds
stand still, nothing but white puffs,
the animal shapes having run away.