Sahara

I.
It rains red Saharan sand from across the sea,
and it sings like a mother calling to me
for dinner from across the way. I say,
"I will return, again, to you some day."

II.

I can feel your smile curve, making
imperfect corners with the line of
my spine. I hide from you, mine.

III.

Note by note, I
Rebuild my career
As a cellist.
Octave by octave,
I fill the stillness.

IV.

I use the wavelengths of a double-stop hum to build a ladder
And I climb it past the dissonant memories of all the Jacobs and
All the Davids and all the Deborahs and all the pianos that
I never learned how to play. And somehow, I get away.  

V.

Sun-breaking toil gives me peaceful,
sleeping night-times and dreams of
breathing in water and
breathing out song.

VI.

I bought myself a ticket and flew away.
I stood on a Western Saharan cliff and wept.
I watched the sun sink into the sea and
I heard them singing as I leapt.