There was sand beneath
my feet, between my fingers,
slipping down through my hair,
dusting across my face.
She screamed, laughed,
danced frantically away from
the edge of the sea-salt,
terrified of the vast unknown.
Afterwards, we sat in the
breeze and slurped warm
soda, dragging our fingers
through the sand on the
wooden bench, pretending
we both belonged there; but
I was the only one who burned.
Years later, I stood at the edge
of the eternal sea, watched the
sun set, sliding beneath the water.
I imagined riding a boat, sailing
six thousand miles to the other
edge, leaping off and finding her
still there, laughing hysterically.
It is always me
and only me
who burns –
my skin, my friends
my history, my
everything
by Ghanaperu