I stare into a mirror sometimes
where we bathed in a fiery lake
baby seen over my shoulder those gray eyes
I can’t shake and read the wrinkled palm then
wish for permanence before the fact
how dry time saw you dancing here a lifetime
dazzling the flickering sound and color flashing drive
beat up a deafening wall of blinding black noise
air dark words swinging mad across the infinite
heard you speaking fast to forward backwards
spin to now not turning right in the hips somehow
stuttering rhythm in one and two and waiting to come back
step outside to meet burnt times unseen in the glass
how there was no fortune telling time in my future
Aloha and e komo mai. I'm an author of prose and poetry born and raised in Honolulu, Hawaiʻi. I publish a daily rough draft here on my author site. Please read with me, comment, and please share your own writing. Mahalo for reading, and a hui ho.
Lanning Lee 