after Unforgettable, Finding Dory
On the other side of the wall
is a man singing of opportunities:
what if father had a kinder heart.
Small water tribes exist
like subsets – men don’t dust
the turban fallen from the head
of a stone. Take a deep breath,
fill the gills with an easy death.
lovers are prone to be slashed
by rusty tridents. On days
of forgotten prayers, braid
excessive lengths of these
water-paths into decorative
knots. My father’s ears are
the feet walking on air
where conjunctions confuse
journeys. Too many signs
pollute our communication;
we swim in circles
on simpler instructions.
First published in GloMag and Spanish translation in El Golem