solstice


tell me stories
of the ink on your pale skin
the mockingbirds, butterflies, swallows
a miniature zoo encaged in your ribs
a snake slithering below your breast

and in between your fingers:
the sun pointing north
a palm tree (for heckling)
a seashell on the ring
an anchor––the weight of a promise
when you say paraiso
your tongue folds
like waves kissing the shore

the names tracing your spine:
your first boyfriend
your late grandfather
your favorite bible verse
your first
your last
and finally,
yours

tell me how each of them came to be
and tomorrow will never come.

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