vasco da gama

[fleur_de_soleil]

 it was you
who was unsatisfied
with the surroundings.

hearing whispers in the bloodstream;
of the secret calculations of those aged 
magi, that far away country of the brain

the romance and twilight boating
down the hepatic sinusoids;
the skilled builders, constructing marvel after marvel
reaching upwards and outwards into 
the depth of space
from the rarefied atmosphere
of my skin

mysterious company of foreigners; those one-celled immigrants
who don't even remember when they arrived here
cooking away in their strange kitchens; methane
sulfur. the pestilential stench
of Otherness, in the dark, spicy loops of
bowel.

and so quietly you waited, until the day arrived 
where you sang these stories,
of these lands; awaiting
and you summoned the young ones, 
you departed -

[and it was not enough for you
to poison just us, with your Dreams.
in each of these countries, these islands of my
scaffolding, you preached your gospel;
multiplying, multiplying,
dividing]