Everyday, Islands Go Missing

Everyday, Islands Go Missing


The island is tired
of waiting

for you. You have
not found it yet,

how must that sound,

like throwing words
into the ocean, the poor
little pebbles.

Who feels bad for
the island

in the middle of the
mainland, no oceans
in sight.

Where is the island

for the farmer,
for cacti,
for those who have
never seen an ocean.

The ticket
is not the island.

Your goggles
are not the island.

The island can’t come inland.
It has to remember where
it lives,

you need to go to it,
walk on it,
a puddle of land.