I wish to write a poem 

of hope, 

no coins tossed.

to write about a boy 

who wishes to pull a tree from its roots. 

times he won’t fall asleep, waiting 

& still find unrest in his dreams. 


I don’t want to hear about how he held on 

to that man’s eyes like his danshiki, 

a silent prayer on his lips – pregnant clouds, 

a beckon for  rains, soothing ones, 

all on the ground he won’t leave 




and for once, a knot won’t be formed, 

the surface tension around his heart 

won’t thaw, 

won’t thin. 


& perhaps, a home 

can still avoid being naked. 


Leave a Reply