Do not use words like dawn and Spring, Summer
and longing, my dear. Bikini was bombed
during a nuke trial. A mango burst open,
I lay silent on this atoll. Never
wall me in gentle words, my dear, like peach.
My verse won’t reek of their odor, they get
parched like bloody lips. Wrinkled like sachet,
these words, stiff as a body on a beach,
the sand and salt, melted, by brine on skin
like scraps, uneven like mire. This carcass
that strays won't taste, and crabs won't climb or pass
sideways, no one can revive this body
of words. Around the grave, flies whirr.
We listen. The waves moan and set us on fire.