I know the cadence of many-a-shore,
Particular light and coolness of shadow.
Airports, shopping malls, alleyways.
All in haste, all the same.
In hotel rooms, news on the television
Describing the weather of the region.
It’s entertaining because it’s not mine.
“Waking up to some frost and fog.”
Trauma of birth,
Removal from safe oblivion.
Dad smells like Vaseline,
Mom smells like Nivea Cream.
Two parts of one pulverized whole.
Dormant memories blossoming in my poetry.
My childhood in a suitcase. Dormant memories blossoming in my poetry.
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