Geography

You said you like my necklace

 – equator entwined around my skin

with a light bright dew.

You said you like my palms

 – the continents that hold the most sun.

You know when I read poem, I wrinkle

sometimes – you know that I have

more rivers than others, more torrents.

I know you like to travel,

You like to roam on my terrestrial lips

& smoothen my oceanic tissues

with your fingerprints from a dry climate.

In between the seasonal migrations,

I’m scared of these shifts.

So I cry more monsoons, I ascend more rains,

publishing my maps like concealing diaries.

& I hear you state the final destination

would be my heart – go through

the indifferent curst, venerable mantle

to the beating burning core.

Yet I don’t know what to do

with my compressed lava,

dormant volcano

covered with glacial snow.

2022.4.28