Embrace by Janie StapletonPoecology
Issue 5

Rajiv Mohabir

Du’a

Crests blow foam spouts that crash against
              rock and asphalt. The sea yields
its salt bones as a wind or mist or

             wraith. My windshield grays shades
of phantasm. You tumble in whale fall
             as calcium stone. Beached, deadened

coral clouds the sand in whites and bleach.
             On the stretch of shore, rose petals dry
at noon, perfume rising as tiny

             curls of grave nostalgia: palmfuls
of whispered vespers cast to salt.
             So far from you, my petals

parch like this body’s du’a.