Give me a room to read like a book,

a hallway to row like a sea—

Give me a berth and the green-
ribboned bookmark of coast

jutting up where before
there was nothing but empty

sky, to say I have arrived—
after months without fresh

water, months without oranges,
months without letters

tied to the backs of
homing birds.

 

In response to Via Negativa: Bequest.

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