This place bleeds through itself.
Neighbourhoods blur,turn cities into cities,
and we're somewhere other
than where we were,
like the earth is a magician
and we are its dove,
in two places at once,
tucked in the sleeve of the land,
waiting to be produced
—unlike the islands I've known.
The us-them shorelines
look like tyranny,
feel like freedom.
Islands are magicians
that won't saw you in half
then make you whole.
No,
islands are more into voodoo,
pinpricks and curses.
