For Safia

Your mother traveled the world chasing a spark. Through ghettoes and castles and pyramids and volcanoes. The wonders you must have seen through those eyes that fake innocence. I’m not much for traveling but if you told me so I’d be on the first plane to some shady third world country just to hold your hand before the natives skinned and ate us. Paintings of lovers and pink boxing gloves. Making trouble for comedians and drinking with poets. I’m a clunky robot with my wire exposed, and you are the wind that pushes the sails and dances between these concrete trees. I want to hear your heart in those goofy rhyming words. I want to hear your words dance and pulse. I want to hear your words so you aren’t just a perfect face and amazing legs. Coral is made from skeletons, and you are my mermaid in pink boxing gloves.