xxiv.

On the Aegean Speed Line, high-tailing a fast ferry
away from Perseus’s birthplace, away from those beaches
with names like Ganema, Sykamia, Megalo Livadi,
whose scythe-like coves left us speechless
and shockingly bold as we unpeeled our bathing suits
like human wrappers, and let pebbly sand stick
to our backs, while the sun conducted its trade routes.
We ask: Why are we leaving again? Homesick
we are not, though we did wish Langston & Dylan
here, so as to astonish that we were the better
parents, and surely I cursed the island for its urchins
who fired missiles when my hand sought treasures
near their spiky orbs. I understand now why
children and the dead are abandoned: heaven is a cult
of the irrational. In my glazed-over eyes, your body
found an ally; I rubbed cream until the tumult
of our lives cured right on the spot. Now on deck,
an illness returns. Paradise dwindles to a speck.
The Sweet Hurried Trip Under an Overcast Sky
Major Jackson
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The Sweet Hurried Trip Under an Overcast Sky

Major Jackson

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The Sweet Hurried Trip Under an Overcast Sky cover

The Sweet Hurried Trip Under an Overcast Sky

Major Jackson


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