dolorous, again unmoored, I gravity sling
around sol tethered spheres, captivated
by that sort of atomic codependence.

the Fortunate Isles still light years away,
I come across a capsized destroyer
floating listlessly on its sapping side.

the debris that surrounds its torn-open hull
tells tale of Punic faith. I wonder,
did Helen or Jezebel or Mami Wata

run you aground?

docking, I sequence life out of the paralyzed readouts,
snatching the quantum code from Abraham’s bosom
that gave Lazarus back his breath.

mending, weaving, rewiring,
I singe neuroepithelium after neuroepithelium
’til I run out of clone serum and turn to raiding

the dead for spare parts.

her oars dipped in stardust anew, vertical axis stabilized,
I unfold our faults and christen her res publica—
silence, after all, is waived upon a concordat’s breach.

roaring engines now my battle hymn,
booming canons my glimmering brand,
I launch a weighted campaign and declare myself

Kandake, defying the druidic priests

that wiped me from belief.
where is there an Arcady anyway
that would willingly berth me?