Poetry

a poem by Roger B Rueda

1.
mine is a sea.
don’t just look at it with a jaundiced eye.
move down under it or through it:
become its fish anytime
so long as you have your gills
through which you breathe.

in its seabed, mine has trees taken off
from manabu fukushima’s lemon tree.
no, just being almost: trees in mine
work like a charm, maybe.

are you coming to mine with me?
but mine is fairly harmless.
it is a friendly little sea.
move down under it or through it, alone.
everyone is invited.

2.
you can forget whereabouts of mine
anytime: it is just its avatar—

all my poetry is on the memory of my soul:
i have learned my important lessons before.