Antony Owen

Love Poem for a Migrant in Open Waters

I mourned her in a youtube pause when migrants drowned,
and I liked to think throughout that storm of a gentle calm
that your arm rowed back in journeys of intricate henna;
to the unnamed home without an empire that migrants dig,
then go home to loved ones and connect without wires.

Maybe their daughter plays in last seasons Ronaldo top and
teaches moon how to grin when darkness swallows it.
Maybe the universe is a huge black ocean and the moon sinks
into earth with it’s white mast crumpling into eyes of lovers,
lovers like rich people and migrants who lick the same spoon.

Yeah this is a love poem for a migrant in open waters who
died in the empire of a thirty foot wave and was free for a while
like celebrities before they discovered the new world of liquid
screens that half the world drowns in to feel alive and real.
Yeah this is a love poem for a migrant in open waters
who lived
when nobody
noticed.

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