Yes, Different Places Together

Make us separate at dawn,
again your skin tone has turned
to the sunset’s wheat.
We are dried goods on different ships
… I’ll admit
my crew would trade me for you.

Fall with the sea-spray
on the sand of your back.
My mud has hardened
for the tractors to crush underneath
the chores
of a construction worker’s morning.
They are building another
award-winning hotel
for you to sleep in —
your affairs with the sundown.

You, in a grown woman’s body,
have forgotten the nursery rhymes
of your father,
but an older father blessed you
with lips of grapes and beliefs of vine,
so I watch you
give foliage to rocks,
to un-named planets,
so these stars above lose their names
in the death of naive civilizations.

Cassiopeia spilled her secrets
to the bureaucrats of God and the
scientists at Bell Labs
… so as they did in another galaxy,
they will do us in.

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