My door was open
***
I held a shiny quarter of a room
somewhere I haven't been
through a door
unaware it was left
ajar
***
A slip
A twist of a wrist
A soft click
a soft i n s i d e
***
There was a small fishing boat by the horizon
I reached
the ship’s captain turned to me
a ghoul
I stumbled back, ready to run
and fell into fingers
clumsy at first
losing skin to fingernails
to find that the hand held on
tight
***
Under the dim reflecting light of the quarter
***
Eyes
from an ocean
an ocean island
ocean, ocean in the Caribbean
an island frequency
an umbrella drink sweating in the tropical sun
***
Someone brought the devil a packet of cigarettes
a string of black Tahitian pearls
and ocean waves
seismic
welling
waves
About the Creator
Michele Nampalli
This space is breath for my sensitivity. The poems come fully formed. I've known for quite some time now that my art is about receiving more than creation...its the most natural way I know to process my inner world. It started when I was 7.
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