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Alexis Santos

I Was the Moon Stalking a Castaway

I enjoy most how you tan your velvet underbelly

in a pool of my own light.

How long can I watch you

wrestle lizards into rolling papers,

fish scales tangled in a salt pepper beard,

and an understanding that neither are poor decorum.

There was only ever your one prayer

floated to me rolled in a bottle,

silent as memory. Whispered before into sand

for gossip amongst the conch shells,

it was your desire to be one with the ecosystem

that was growing under your waterspout,

fulfilled.

But what is left of your beliefs,

and why do they move like poisonous caterpillars

through the mangos?

When did I begin to hover

just above you while you slept? Weeping

at my lack of mouth

that could be used for tasting your dreams,

gnawing at their core, screaming

you will die here.

So will what was ours.

The fruit, the minutes swathed in pale sunlight

until they showed like lacework,

the lullaby of the waves breaking the shores maidenhead:

Ours, ours, ours. Let me promise

to guide the starlight

through the sand to char your bones.

Then you’ll allow the sun and me

to become the two backed beast

one more time.


Alexis Santos is a graduating senior at SUNY Oswego majoring in broadcasting and mass communications and minoring in creative writing. She has not the slightest idea of what to do after graduation, but she loves reading, dogs, and warm weather.

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Filed under Poetry