Stolen

Jorge Blanco
Featured image: Amazon River 5 © Guilherme Bergamini 2019

 

Stolen into the night,
all at once, shot
invisible atmospheric,
transformed into mystery,
a faith ultimatum,
quickened wood,
beautiful, fallen,
suddenly other, obscenely true,
forever beyond in vexing dreams
of soil, in mom’s eyes
where they tilt
to your tropical hazel
like a beckoning,
in Sebastian’s heroic chin
and engineering expressions.

You appear when you want
in terminals of uncomfortable scent,
in tears that steal the wind,
in airplane prayers,
turbulent, caressing the prism of vacancy,
every unfinished equation.
The math is all broken,
but instinct commands other ways
to construct a life of kites.

I feel you deep in coastal Colombia,
your topography pushed
permanently into my palms,
shadows in coral eyes.
This land exudes you.
My skin was never mine,
it covers the abyss
like a bark of coffee sky
before anxious stars
letting go their secrets
in winks, proof that
what is will never be,
of the white fire beckoning
from the beyond,
taunting me to leap and
and tear into the night.

I’m helpless under
the death-cycle-dynamo
of Caribbean night, fragrant
with your exponential gaze,
cyclopsian, leading my hands
through the pores of soul
and the knocking of the dock
and the whimper of islands,
atomic, humid with blood.