maybe you are the
final frontier and i am
an island floating

on its back towards
whatever shore is within
closest. (this is so

similar to the
way you curl into me like
galathée to its

resting floor) i touch
my mouth to your collarbone
the same way i spoke

to myself in the
dark as a child—too soft, and
far too sweet. i think

your body is a
world i will never unlearn,
even after we

grow dry and sunder
from each other, as though we
had never been green.

Imaani Cain is an emerging writer from New England. Her work is forthcoming in or has been published in Talking Writing, cahoodaloodaling, and Gone Lawn.

This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.