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Al-Datma

The shore’s distant only to me
until I came it was docile, outside time
alluringly near the closer sun
now, still in sight, overshadowed by
the darkness over the sails, the water
and wings smashing atoms on each beat
they are large even to themselves
feeling the resistance of their own girth
behind their eyes
remarking how the sails move
so slowly, intentionally into the falling rocks
while other prey resists

I am not an object, I’m a soul
and my soul is not objectively beautiful
it is deeper, more deeply beautiful
born in sadness
like everything else
unique in nature

seen as my stomach
on the last of a thousand and one nights


NBR6PossematosmallThe first generation in his family to attend college, Frank Possemato currently teaches English at Los Angeles Community College. His writing has appeared in a variety of publications, including 3AM, Underground Voices, and in Akashic’s “Mondays Are Murder” series.