Ashore, Please!

Ashore, Please!

When I swapped

my residence

into the far right of my desk

making me less

present, as a verb skewed around

its meaning

and time

I became a

satellite possibility

one delimited by my self´s

shadow

and visibility

hopping along undesirable

subjects, watching others drinking

tea and wetting their fingers

in biscuits and unsafe sex – the sharing of

the most intimate form of

desire – I lick my fingers

dimming the perception of whom

is who

thinking

unwritten letters unfold -

my sweet home

drizzle - before me

slowly. I can read them

one by one, they hold

all the words that will and have

ever died in my mouth, a chemical

sequence from which

hope, hopefully can

be derived

But now it's

too late. The sun has shone

for enough clarity to

weaken

such plan.

© 2016, José Coelho