I followed here the heart
I built for you. Here it is, blue
as the preening peacock’s crest, bruise
renewed again and again. Blue as
children made vapor, families ground
to grist raining on the accordion
chest of the sea. I followed here my own
forgetting of the fireflies that blink
like prayers in belligerent grasses; my
dreams of mattering, as in, appearing—
a noun in your syntax. That stone
you strike for water. Is this not
the Dream? To take more than
bodies have to give, then eat without
discord? I want you to know I have
always understood my place. That
the only feeling more beautiful than
your fear is your want. Look,
how your flowers light the world.
Copyright © 2025 by Cynthia Dewi Oka. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on April 15, 2025, by the Academy of American Poets.
