the swish of a silk sari on a summer night
fire from the nostrils of a chinese dragon,
the tip of a tongue touching a tooth.
I will put in the box
a snowman with a rumbling belly
a sip of the bluest water from Lake
Lucerne, a leaping spark from an electric fish.
I will put in the box
three violet wishes spoken in Gujarati, the last
joke of ancient uncle and the first smile of a baby.
I will put in the box
a fifth season and a black sun,
a cowboy on a broomstick and a witch on a white horse.
My box is fashioned
from ice and gold and steel,
with stars on the lid and secrets in the corners.
Its hinges are the toe joints of dinosaurs.
I shall surf in my box
on the great high-rolling breakers
of the wild Atlantic, then wash ashore
on a yellow beach the colour of the sun.
Kiaora Harold. What an outstanding piece of writing. You have done a terrific job of using language for effect. I particularly like the line ...with stars on the lid and secrets in the corners. Just beautiful!!!
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