Poem By Anthony Parker
Down along the shore waves reach
and touch the black volcanic rocks, splashing,
let into places a body isn’t. Hung low,
stars waltz the entire zodiac in weightless
atmosphere, paired off into celestially
perfect couples. Flower have all been given
women’s names—in your mouth is the sway,
back and forth, of bamboo reeds. At the reef
of your collarbone is the dark pulse of rain.
You exist in the full weight of the wind,
are the color of tears on dark skin, move with
careful feet avoiding the disaster of touch.
The zodiac is useless to you—onward planets press
and you sleep with the moon waning in your bed.