Rita Rouvalis Chapman Dear Syria

I was talking to the sky,

and we were speaking in blue

about how to wear birds

draped like a scarf, low and fringed and

how to wear bombs like drop pearls

each falling from the silver breast of a plane and

about how to wear oil fires like pendants

each finger reaching up to

skirt along the edges of an orange evening

This is how I learned to wear your ghosts like buttons

and drink your fear like hot tea and

this is how I learned to dream of eating

my own future.

Back to 51.1