ふるさと

{i}

| i curse my feet for their inability to fly |

| i think effervescent thoughts and pray |

| maybe my body will catch up to my heart someday |

/ lull me to sleep with clinking spoons / windchime cadavers sing from the other side / i want sand between my toes / i want mountain air in my lungs / i want you by my side / i try to touch home, but she eludes my grasp / and i pen her letters and post cards but don't know how to address them / toss them to the wind and hope my heart will catch them in the lands beyond /

{ii}

| i curse my lips for forgetting your name |

| i think of home as a people, not a place |

| maybe you're my sanctuary; maybe you'll fill the space |

/ lick the stucco; see if it tastes like haven / espresso between my teeth, cold brew coating my gums / no wonder i'm wide awake, clutching my hammering heart / longing for solace is normal, i'm sure / but awaking in the suburbs with seawater on my tongue isn't / aspirations and reality swim before my eyes / periotic confusion ruptures my eardrums / paradise is a world away, in my dreamland / will you meet me there someday?