And if longing seizes you for sailing
the stormy seas, when the Pleiades
flee mighty Orion…
Things are bad and getting worse
anyone who has lived knows this
Sisters trade children homes husbands
I am silent—retired womb tiny boats leave the
shoreline of my country because our money is worth
less than paper.
I’m sick with love and they
Know its sick with
What I can’t have
We startle under the canopy of stars &starve in our glittering houses.
Whores are better off than gods even in bad times
anyone who has loved knows this.
On our backs we’re
pinned like moths to linen
The distance between us
for sailors to chart their courses by
On a clear night, hunter
Your hair a flag
Your bow and belt
But this distance cannot be closed
Anyone knows this
Not even by stars’ desire.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 19, Issue 4.
See all items about Cameron Dezen Hammon