attn: mission princess
forgive me. i’m in love with you. but i’m here. marooned. far from your eastern pacific shores.
your steam pipe alleys. after all these hours it’s just been tide in and tide out. the waves crashing
are second hands. sometimes a sailor gets lost at sea. keelhauled over the razor barnacles. i’m
drawn like that girl you can’t stop stealing looks at. coconut weary. dark briquette eyebags.
homesick for mayflower tobacco and you. animal magnetism makes the magic magenta trolley
cars roll. down the embarcadero of my face. hanging off the side. flying down whatever hill you
lead me to. the dewy church bells ring out through little italy; the marble rails jangle like cavalry
sabers. i remember you best with mango skin parrots in your balcony hair. wild nature on your
streets. you used to blow your ships to singapore. then pull them back to their beaus and pepper
trees. but you left me behind. last night i dreamed you shaped the wind as return postage. i left a
chest of home dirt in the hull as a prayer. what i have left of you is at the bottom of the ocean.
your steam pipe alleys. after all these hours it’s just been tide in and tide out. the waves crashing
are second hands. sometimes a sailor gets lost at sea. keelhauled over the razor barnacles. i’m
drawn like that girl you can’t stop stealing looks at. coconut weary. dark briquette eyebags.
homesick for mayflower tobacco and you. animal magnetism makes the magic magenta trolley
cars roll. down the embarcadero of my face. hanging off the side. flying down whatever hill you
lead me to. the dewy church bells ring out through little italy; the marble rails jangle like cavalry
sabers. i remember you best with mango skin parrots in your balcony hair. wild nature on your
streets. you used to blow your ships to singapore. then pull them back to their beaus and pepper
trees. but you left me behind. last night i dreamed you shaped the wind as return postage. i left a
chest of home dirt in the hull as a prayer. what i have left of you is at the bottom of the ocean.
Nicholas Barnes is a poet living in Portland, Oregon. His work has appeared in over fifty publications including trampset, Juked, and Cola Literary Review. Twitter: @ColesWordsPoet
Beaver Magazine 