by Rio Cortez
Lucky, I've seen sea turtles slowly crawl out of a moonlit ocean
on their way to lay their eggs in the sand.
But I didn't feel a thing until, moved, I heard a stranger gasp.
Standing at the Sacré-Coeur—the one in Paris, and not in Idaho—
I've gazed upon La Ville Lumiére under rain
and fretted about my long walk home.
I worry that when you're born I'll look at you like that.
Hoping you'll say OK, we can leave the concert before the last set,
just so that we don’t get lost in the overwhelming crowd.
From:
Golden Ax
Copyright ©:
2022, Penguin Books
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