how can the sand be the waves
when all its ever known
is the flavor of the sun
and the hiss
of their own restlessness
to be like water
and take the shape
of an empty tussle
hanging out of a sequined shawl

the ship is my legacy
to be inside during the day
to read about a sea
that I need to cross
before been born in another desert shore

who knows if I would find another ship like this

where at night
showering outside on the deck
I stand with the stars
reflecting on my skin

where I would know about the ocean
slapping inside me
taking me in its tide

or even if I would be a
bead of sweat
falling from the furrowed brows
on to the desert
with no ocean to quench the crying sand

©Malintha Perera 2015

thank you Martine Faseur 🙂

Image :





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