The World is Yours, I’ll Write Your Name on Every Shore
stilled day.
fathers, children, mother’s day
& I belong to the family of loneliness.
it is seventy in central park
La Bohemé
shouts passionately from a carriage
& I remember
to dream.
my love is to return
to the states in less than a week,
my presentation must be flawless
though
I’ve never been good at closing.
new york city.
but we take it slow.
mahr is settled
like a watch
on his wrist,
like a wife
on a trip
like my heart
singing one man’s song.
La Bohemé
returns. this time the carriage
is empty & the cyclist
cycles as I turn to a future. only time
will tell if it’s mine.
so,
after dubai’s honeymoon,
after my emerald cut
the world is yours
& ballet is mine.
