A line of melody struck out from summit.
The second song ever sung,
a reflection of Eve
in the lake like an echo, animate Eden,
alien verbs breathing, sun-drop eyes
too far-gone to mention, glowing
as a million redfish cut waters low.
But a poem belongs to everyone,
and since it was good, no-one stood
to stop her sounding-out the language
of the stranger, flying the mountain
over sticky snow, a caution,
and for Old Adam?
Adam Ai is a Puerto Rican and Basque poet and U.S. Army veteran from Los Angeles. His poems have been published in various print and online publications. He lives with a Ghost. Hobbies include time travel and teaching robots to love. Connect with him on Twitter and Instagram: @AdamAiPoems.