children lose nothing.
Despite a myriad of chances that this will blow up in our faces
I vouch for the immutability of my heartstrings;
For only once before has fever transverberated across my unbeknown horizons -
echoing the clash of slits of hope and languish,
before groping for a resignation form,
in the relay of immanence and strife.
But this time I learned to suck the marrow from the damp decks of history
and follow the creaks of season’s fury
signalling safe harbor upon desert's return.
My ears drum homesick
and my wishbone crackles of your nearness,
Suffusing the bleakness of our undertows
with promises of feral laughter.
Thus,
with perfume's remains,
I disembellish my carcass for the sake of our lungs.
