behind
shaded pools of turquoise
water in groves more green
than green. I don’t see it,
but I try.
Under seas of the brutalest
navy shifted ever by
the winds of sneezing
gods. I look for it
and find only fish.
Deserts of grayish sand
seem empty if naught
for all that is there.
It’s hot I don’t search
long. Still no.
Perhaps I shall scour
the world, from elbowed
mountains, to veiny marsh-
land. But I don’t think
I’ll find it.
Wherever you stole
my heart away too,
I think I’m better off here,
writing with
you.