The tempest

You cringe at me incredulous
Like I have a tree growing out of my mouth
Like the answer to my question is what
Like this is all and no less important

I whistle at your long-windedness
I writhe with your idolatries

What are the parameters of my redemption?
What brackets and squeezes the amplitude of my joy?
You are not the whole and I am not a part
I undulate with my senses
And sabotage your short-sightedness

Grant me the wisdom to know how
To float- to birth- to inhale-
The meaning
This island’s mine of
Conquered tempests
Bids you resurrection



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