Eva SKRANDE

EVERYDAY, MY EARTH

Everyday, my earth, I kiss your seven continents
and marry your rivers. Your fish, your birds
my language at dawn. Let there be no secrets
between my mountains and your cities.
Look how carefully the cartographers
marked your inlets and your palms,
how many sailors want to worship your knees' winds.
Your rivers make a sun of my tongue.
Near your thighs I feel as if I'm saving someone--
maybe an exiled hero, maybe the night,
maybe the refugee boats,
whatever swims upward to avoid famine and plague.

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