Operetta
After Hayao Miyazaki’s Howl’s Moving Castle
You were never just one place. No,
you were always opening the door
into a different country, always
stepping into a new name.
You’ve been everywhere I want
to be. And I’ll never be just this,
not now, not with how I’ve known
these bodies—both young and old,
both bird and beautiful. So I can’t
say my desire. So I’ve broken
and rebuilt this. I’ve known each
shape my skin can take and I’m still
making your eggs for breakfast.
I’m still straying into fog and finding
my way home. Let me take a moment.
Let me take in the scenery, the storm
and the sea. The way it almost laps
at my toes and the way you say there
you are, sweetheart, sorry I’m late.
I’ve been looking for you everywhere.
Song Against Light and Silence
The closest city paints its face
across the night, lips splitting
into light and each sound that sings with it.
The only sky I’ve ever seen is so full
of my father’s history. I remember
the skyline, the silhouette, the lighting
strikes different here and sometimes
it doesn’t touch
down at all. How to say we’ve done this—
to sing this throat raw. I’ve made myself
into every shape of light
you’ve ever shown me and shut down
my bright body. In another country
the night sky stays
that way. We keep our history
quietly between our lips,
our palms. In another place you’re gone,
you’ve left the weather
to its ways and taken
as much of the moon
as you’ve been given. You teach
your fingers to be civil, your loud
engine chest to quiet. The storm rolls in;
don’t tell me you’re not listening now.
