See You in Seattle - Flipbook - Page 15
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You’ve turned me into counterfeit // stolen china in a foreigner’s
cabinet // spoils of war yearning for home // fractions of a spirit
swathing the bone // a phantom chasing ghosts.
I’m softer than you think
killer
do it gently.
vi. Prelude
Hours after the final shift, the day waves its last goodbye, a
cry of light in the cloudy sky. The couples that walked the hugging
street, are now fed and in bed. The harbor posts glow gold, lanterns
lit and closed. Soft waves fizzle at the shore, showing their acrylic
white until they fizzle no more. A weak fog sets, and within the mist
walk the phantoms of the wharf.
With nowhere to go, they bump and dissolve into one
another. Faceless shrouds crossing the harbor, harmless spirits
working their old shifts. Where life cannot carry, the spirit will
persist.
Among them sits a silhouette, an adopted daughter of the
Pacific. She has an entire country behind her back—she has
traveled as far west as she can go.
I would ask her:
do you feel safe here, at the harbor,
tucked into the static folds of somber?
