I burn my father's prayers in a heap
        of hemp, & marijuana. I, vagabond
because the wind will not leave me.

        The road ahead is a forbidden way
leading to a discotheque for lost boys.
        You are trying to say home, but I mistake

it for run, & so I leave. I, homeless
        child because there is no home in me.
I, siren song because the voice of whom

        I sing is an echo lost in the lust of silence.
The people I love are memories fleeting
        like embers. My mother's face, a ball

of gas molded into the geometry of
        a cloud. I do not remember her so the cloud
rains me to teach me her touch. It becomes

        harder to remember my name. I, eclipse
because my body lives inside a shadow's hut.
        The elegy of the black swan in the forest is

for me, for things lost. I want to return like
        a soul from a dream, but the wind tethers me.
I, wind because I am the child with legs that

                knows no home.


*Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash